#she’s a professional writer and editor and had all this drilled in my head by age 10 fnfklspfkfkap

[hinadori-chan]

okay but to all the earring wearers out there imagine you and keigo wearing each others pairs sometimes

like, you in his little red princess cuts and him wearing your favorite pair

[missorgana]

that’s how you get the girl (more or less)

pairing: han solo/leia organa

fandom: star wars (original trilogy)

rating: teen and up

word count: 4881

warning: swearing

summary: Han's kind, and he's an idiot. What a combination. (newspaper reporters!au inspired by nickie’s gorgeous aesthetic. happy very belated birthday @ladyeowyn ♥ really hope you enjoy this love!!)

read on ao3

Han Solo might possibly be the stupidest person on the face of the earth.

There are many things in this world Leia can’t be certain of, but this one, she just knows.

And she definitely didn’t expect to meet him at her job, of all places.

About five years ago, Leia got an intern spot at Cloud City Times, along with her lovable, strangely connected twin brother, Luke.

She didn’t even know he applied til they got their acceptance emails.

Regardless, they did everything together, so Leia didn’t complain.

Their mother always had a fond look in her eyes when checking on them after their bedtime, in their younger years, scolding them with no real irritation when she found them reading Lord of The Rings, flashlight in hand, hidden in a fort of blankets.

She could never really get angry with them, no matter how much trouble they managed to get into.

So, of course, she was over the moon when the twins told her the news.

On their first, they were reminded by her to work together, and not get into their ‘usual squabbles’, a comment that made Leia scrunch up her nose.

She still kissed them goodbye, though.

And Leia worked hard to impress their boss, she really did, and she can’t really speak on Luke’s behalf, but she’s sure he did too.

She knows him too well to think anything else, her brother doesn’t do anything half-assed. They are Skywalkers, after all, as their father always said.

The internship eventually earned them both an actual, stable job, and six months ago, the boss appointed Leia as managing editor.

And she held a lot of pride in that, you know?

This essentially means she was put in charge of hiring and promoting, or in worse cases, firing staff.

Luke teased her for being his boss, he was proud of her, but also loved pushing her buttons every once in a while.

And if Leia didn’t know better, it might look like her brother is doing just that to her now.

Yesterday, Luke asked her to take this guy in for an interview, someone he apparently met in his weird board game club or whatever.

He insisted that this new friend of his needed a job, insisted he had some good ideas, too, and Leia decided to put her faith in him.

Oh boy, was she wrong to do so.

Because in front of her, he’s sitting, Han Solo, the man her brother said was practically born to have this job.

If Leia has to be completely honest with herself, cause her mother always valued honesty, her first thought when she saw him made her rather flustered.

But can you blame her, really?

He was polite and shook her hand, his own wearing rings on every finger, and showcasing a smile that could almost cross the line to being a smirk,

This guy proceeded to shower her with compliments, rambling about how he’s a huge fan of hers, highlighting the pro-abortion piece she published a couple of months prior, and even saying her office was comfortable, not crammy and dull like those in the movies.

Him being insanely attractive doesn’t help Leia’s professional and social ability, either.

She never thought herself as one to swoon over someone she just met, yet here she is.

Leia had always liked her partners tall, her ex-girlfriend Amilyn was more than a head taller than herself, and so is this Han, and he still has some sort of sparkle in his eyes she doesn’t really know what to do with.

All polite greetings and various compliments aside, Leia has to retain some level of authority, so she starts the interview, the usual questions of past experience, ambitions, strengths and weaknesses, you know the drill.

And, well, the conversation turns out interesting, to say the least.

“So, Han, you got any past experience in the field?”

He blinks at her, pulls a lock of hair behind his ear before he replies, “Ah, well, not exactly.”

Leia waits expectantly but the man in front of her seems done with his sentence.

Man of few words, huh. This is going to be a long interview, then.

“Would you care to elaborate?” she asks, already impatient. His good looks are one thing, but not a basis for employment.

He smiles again. Dammit, Leia, pull yourself together.

“You talk just like in your writing, I’m impressed,” he tells her, reaching out to presumably take a closer look at the framed picture of her parents on her desk, “I, uh, how much did Luke tell you about me?”

Before Leia can answer, a shattering sounds, and Han’s face in a state of shock.

He fumbles his fingers where he dropped the photo.

“Jesus, that, uh- wauw. It’s real glass?”

She just has to do a double a take. Leia’s not surprised as much as confused, switching her gaze to the photograph and shards of glass now inhabiting the industrial Ikea rug.

Han looks embarrassed.

He still tries a smile, this one most likely one he uses to charm himself out of possible incidents, she bets, or accidents, as in this case.

Leia just huffs. She can’t help but give him a smile back and a simple shrug.

He’s an idiot.

With this realisation, Leia relaxes in her seat once again, while Han runs a hand through his hair anxiously, “Oh f- I mean, damn. I’m so sorry. I’ll get you a new frame, I really thought I had this, of course my dumb luck-”

“Don’t.”

She puts her hand up to further get her point across.

“It’s a frame, Han. The photo’s still intact. Don’t worry about it.”

Still, he picks up the photograph and hands it to her, appearing to hold further apologies back, and she nods a thanks.

“Look, uh, to answer your question - I got experience a couple years back. Thing is, well, I exposed… some stuff. My rep ain’t the best cause of that.”

His hand gestures are large, vivid, quick, and Leia wishes he would catch his breath.

“He deserved it, though! And Luke’s trying to help me out, honestly, he’s the nicest, ever. Please believe me.” he finally finishes, adjusts his wristwatch and just… looks at her.

It’s silent for a while, because Leia doesn’t really know what to answer, and she wishes she could go against her gut feeling.

This kind of charm sucks her in and she scolds herself mentally. Will never admit to it. At least she’ll have someone pretty to look at.

“Luke believes in you.” she tells him simply, “And I trust my brother. If you got a portfolio, I’ll look it over. Just, please, stop looking like you’re terrified of me.”

And Han releases a breath, nods decidedly, “Hell yeah I got one. Okay, you won’t regret this. Seriously.”

Leia gives him a smile, exceptionally warm for someone she’s only known for about thirty minutes. Don’t even think of judging her right now.

“I’ll hold you on that.”

…

Two weeks pass by since Leia hired Han, and she has to admit, she’s positively surprised.

Han’s an exceptional writer, she thinks, after having three published pieces so far, and she feels a sense of pride, almost.

Thing is, well, he needs a metaphorical kick or two when it comes to work.

Not actually working, it’s not like he’s lazy, but let’s say Leia wonders if his definition of a deadline is something different than hers.

Every piece so far, the first draft comes into her hands at least two days after she told him to. And his charm aside, it’s getting on her nerves.

She doesn’t want to act over powerful, but warnings are given where warnings are due, and he always apologises profusely, trying to lighten the mood with one of his bad jokes.

Oh, the cluelessness of him.

The way Han has that smile permanently plastered on her face, it’s a weird combination of someone having the looks of a cocky bastard that makes every swoon, and the personality of a clumsy high school dropout who somehow always ends up saving the day.

And he definitely doesn’t have a problem making friends.

Han’s way too nice. 

Everyone’s nice here, don’t get her wrong, but Leia finds it strange, almost.

It’s come to a point where he tells her of his adventure to another department when their own printer broke down, and he casually mentions someone named Boba, Leia ultimately hiding her confused unknowing of who he’s talking about.

How does he even have the time to meet so many people?

But Leia can’t lie about the fact that she enjoys this weird dynamic they’ve started.

He teases her, in a professional manner that is, always guessing, and always somehow hitting it spot on, what her newest piece is about.

He also knocks on her office door more than anyone else, untimely or not. When she tells him she’s in the middle of something he takes the cue, thankfully, but she suspects he’s waited outside for whatever call she had to end.

Three weeks pass by and it’s like Han’s living in her mind.

She’d suspect of him being a mind reader, if she believed that sort of stuff, and if Han wasn’t so impulsive and strangely dim in certain areas.

Basically, she’s seeing, and hearing, a lot more of him than she expected to.

And whether this is a curse or a blessing, well, Leia is troubled.

Because more than anything, Han is turning out so incredibly annoying.

She hates that thought, because what she finds annoying is not, per say, annoying, not in a traditional sense.

He’s late to everything, yes, but he’s extremely genuine.

Discussions with him is always something Leia looks forward to, and his feedback to her is honestly excellent. It’s almost like he changes personality when he’s deeply concentrated in work, always has to the right constructive criticism, always the missing word you’re looking for.

He works most nights late, he casually told her of that fact, and if she shows even a hint of annoyance towards him, he leaves whatever the case is be and greets her the next morning with coffee.

How’s he learned how she takes her coffee so quickly, anyway?

What shifted their dynamic even more was that Leia and Han both started working late at the office.

First happened on a Friday, where she went to the coffee machine and spotted him still staring at his screen.

This evening encounter ended up as a routine, and eventually, Han more or less moved into her office, until they were both done with whatever task at hand.

And, after five weeks, Leia has now found the most annoying thing about Han Solo.

She likes him.

Leia supposes this is a natural progression, after the weird first job interview, finding he possesses charm in spades, and where she definitely couldn’t deny that he is, in fact, attractive.

Actually, he fits her type completely. And that can’t be happening.

Leia keeps trying to look for signs that he’s actually a douche, but, tragically, not the case.

Han cares about this job, minor flaws aside, and if his interactions with Luke is any indication, he cares about people, too.

He’s kind, and he’s an idiot. What a combination.

Tuesday morning, Han knocks on her door as usual, which is why Leia just yells for him to come in, zero surprise in her tone.

“General,” he greets her, a nickname he came up with on his first day and never explained, and it makes Leia roll her eyes, “You eat breakfast yet?”

Well, that was new.

Leia looks up, Han holding a brown paper bag in his arms, along with the carefully balanced coffee cups, as per usual.

She leans back, trying to hold a smile back but probably failing, “No, now that you ask. Tell me, what would’ve you done if I had?”

Han laugh and sits down, clearly already at home, and starts presenting her with the meal, “We could’ve eaten it for lunch, of course. Multipurpose, right?”

Leia scoffs back at him, but grabs the coffee with a nod as a thank you.

“I do have to take a phone call, though. You wanted to discuss your piece for next week?”

He smirks at her again, “You must be a mind reader, General. But yes, it can wait though. You’re a busy woman, I’ll just take my half of our splendid meal and leave you be.”

Han works a fake cry of despair into his words, and walks out the door, the sulky look way too dramatic for anyone to believe it, but there’s no point in telling him that.

“That’s appreciated.” she tells him, shaking her head fondly at his act, “Remember the deadline this time, now would you?!”

“Of course. It’s me.”

His look of disbelief is given no more than a raise of Leia’s eyebrows.

This man will be the death of her.

…

Out of the many discoveries Leia’s made about Han, her latest is that he’s, in fact, a clingy person.

Very clingy.

This is not something bad in her mind, maybe because he’s so likable.

She’s had to remind him and Luke of their duties a few times, when they were too occupied looking at photos of Han’s dog - Chewie, another thing she has no idea what means - on his flip phone.

Han’s simultaneously the first and last person she expected to still have a flip phone.

And, turns out, Lando and Han dated back in high school. Not that that’s something to think about too much. Leia doesn’t overthink.

Regardless, Han tends to hang around other people for as long as humanly possible.

To begin with, she didn’t have the heart to say something, maybe, possibly, because of her crush, but not really.

Stupid crushes. Leia shouldn’t have crushes.

Now that they’re comfortable with each other, Han clings even more, believe it or not, only difference is Leia is not afraid to tell him to back off when she’s going to a meeting.

And she did figure she’ll have to, well, keep her distance and let whatever she’s feeling go away.

Dating a coworker would be extremely unprofessional, at least in Leia’s mind.

She doesn’t know really if there’s any rules about it. Might be some restrictions, she figures.

And dating Han would require some more patience than what she’s capable of, she thinks, and also that the feeling was mutual.

Han Solo is incredibly hard to read.

During their late night work sessions, they’ve had some, what can you say, heartfelt moments. Honest, raw perhaps?

It surprised her when they happened.

Here, Han’s smirk disappeared, and a relaxed smile took its place. His smirk seemed, sometimes, as something forced, but this, Leia somehow knew was genuine.

He seems more thoughtful about his words, it seems, when they’re one on one.

It’s weird. Not that it means anything.

To begin with he told mostly of Chewie and his car, and he then keeps on telling her on a semi-daily basis how she definitely has to see it, maybe go for a drive because he assures her it has the best motor and perfect glossed paintwork and other car stuff she pretends she cares about.

One conversation went to his high school girlfriend, Qi’ra, and eventually of his more or less absent parents.

Han’s been fending for himself since the age of sixteen, and honestly, that doesn’t surprise Leia at all.

He’s clumsy, an idiot, yes, but he seems like someone who can feel at home anywhere, or with anyone.

She might be imagining that maybe, possibly, he could feel at home with her, but when the thought crosses her it’s stupid. Just because they’re more comfortable than someone should be with their boss doesn’t mean anything.

And well, about these unexplainable feelings of hers towards this dummy, Leia suspects he might be interested in someone else.

Someone else being her twin brother. Now listen, Leia’s not jealous, okay? She hates thinking that way.

Because Han takes a liking to everyone, but especially to Luke.

They’re seeming, at least, to get into a lot more trouble lately - not anything major, just with her, because a common interest is teasing her, apparently.

And Han hangs around Luke’s desk a whole lot, no matter how many times Leia points it out with a raised eyebrow.

He does go when she’s told them a third time, sending a salute her way.

Come to think of it, they’re practically attached by the hip by now.

Luke’s board game club meets twice a week, so Leia can only wonder how much time the two spend together, outside of work.

And her brother always mentions some anecdote or movie or weird fact Han’s told him, excited as always, and as much as Leia gets a pit in her stomach, it’s adorable.

“Have you seen Han’s car?” and when she shakes her head, he looks bewildered, “Leia! You need to see it! He’s like, customized almost everything. It’s some old classic car, can’t remember the company, wait, let me look it up...”

Her brother’s tales of him frame him as close to the standard of a greek god, or something, and it’s hilarious, to be honest.

Like, Leia can tell his idolisation of Han’s clouding his judgement. He’s definitely not as wise as he’s making her brother think, at least.

Similarly, Han talks of how Luke constantly beats him in everything, despite his fine tuned skills he otherwise loves to brag about.

“I let the kid win in chess, though, like, that’s my homefield, you know?” he tells her with a wink, and Leia just laughs, because she’s pretty sure Han isn’t protecting her brother’s dignity with this one.

And Leia has to, finally, admit to herself that she needs to do something.

She has to get over this crush of hers, because she doesn’t have a chance. And she values her brother’s happiness higher than her own.

Leia figures Luke has more patience for Han’s shenanigans than herself, and maybe just a more similar personality, really.

She’s a lot more organized, she thinks, maybe she’s a bit uptight, okay, but that isn’t bad, is it? Why’s Han Solo making her doubt herself so much?

The irony, twins falling for the same guy. Ridiculous.

Anyway, Leia decides to text Han, asks him if they can talk the next morning. Before working on her own heartbreak, she’s gotta make sure he knows she’s got her brother’s back.

And yes, she’s got his phone number, she’s got all the staff members’ numbers, though. Don’t you dare get into that right now.

And Han, like the weird, dreamy guy he is, answers with the usual “‘Course, General”, followed by a winky face. Dear God.

The sooner this is out of the world, the better.

…

Before Leia knows it, the following morning comes and she’s finishing an email when the usual knock sounds.

Han doesn’t even wait for an answer this time, just appears and fumbles with the door handle, trying his hardest not to spill their coffee.

She simply gives him a look and the “You know, usually, regular human beings wait for an answer after knocking.” question.

He raises one eyebrow.

“I’m not even close to regular, General. How could you underestimate me like that!” he cries out with a laugh. “And you did say you wanted to discuss something.”

Leia sighs, yeah, she can’t cover it up with a joke, in the end. Han settles in the seat opposite her desk, giving her a suspicious look.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” She sips the coffee, way too hot, fuck. Her burnt tongue’s halting her words, but she speaks up again regardless, “Not exactly, no.”

His brows furrow. She can’t really tell if he’s confused or worried or disbelieving, he’s always doing that frown whenever something bothers him, though.

“I know I got my piece to you late last week, I- again. I’m learning that, uh, time thing, you know. Just, please don’t fire me. I really need this job and-”

“Han!” she has to outburst, because he’s rambling.

He visibly has to catch his breath, puts on a semi good smirk on again, Jesus, and straightens his back a little.

“Sorry. I’m all ears.”

As much as she’s gotten to know him, she still wonders how many of his mannerisms are put on and how many are genuine.

He certainly flails with his arms a lot whenever he tries to explain something. That can’t be faked, right?

It’s the amount of charm that, well, sometimes seems plastered on.

Not that it’s not working, because boy, it sure does, but if Leia’s being honest, she’d much rather have their solemn, relaxed late conversations.

There, she feels like he’s being more himself, whatever that may be, because she actually doesn’t know this man very well.

She wants to. Maybe. Yeah, no, she does, is that embarrassing? Sue her.

He���s not even the mysterious kind of guy she saw in those stupid shows when she was fourteen, he’s just the right amount of off, compared to her current social circle.

Leia could spend ages trying to describe him, still wouldn’t justify her feelings for him to herself, whatever.

“I didn’t want to see you because of something work-related.” she finally tells him, and the frown reappears on his face, but Leia continues, “I just want to make sure we understand each other.”

Han rustles a bit in his jeans pocket but pulls nothing out, slicks his hair back like he does way too many times than someone should, probably.

He tries an unsure smile again, “I’m not sure I know where you’re going with this, General.”

And he turns a couple of rings on his fingers, presumably because he’s still nervous about where this is going, so Leia has to cut the chase, already, dammit.

“Okay, well, you and Luke hang out a lot. Seems like you like each other.”

Now Han’s mannerisms seems to slow down, he gives her, once more, a slightly lifted eyebrow, replying, “I mean, yeah? Luke’s great. You wanna talk about Luke?”

Leia nods. “I know this is weird, but honestly, since I don’t, really, know you outside of here I might as well get it done here.”

She leans back in her seat, searching for any clues that he wants to say something, but he keeps quiet.

“I love my brother, and I can tell you’re making him happy, but just because I like your work, and well, I like you as a person as well, doesn’t mean that I’ll give you any mercy if you even think about hurting him.” Leia nods to herself, thinking she got that out alright - right? Han, however, seems even more confused than before.

He tilts his head a bit and looks at her for a while.

She doesn’t really know what to do, then, leaning forward again and resting her arms on the table. “You understand where I’m going with this?”

“I think so, General.”

“Good.”

“Tell me, you think I’m flirting with your brother?”

Leia blinks at him, “I- I do. That’s what you’re doing. I hope this isn’t too personal, you really are a friend to me, but as I said-”

“No, no, no. Leia.” he says, and she has to admit she’s taken back by that, because when’s the last time he’s not called her by a nickname? First time they met, probably.

“Fuck.” Han suddenly exclaims, and his face quickly changes, “F- I mean, excuse my language. Anyway. Damn, I’m really bad at this, aren’t I?”

And honestly, Leia now has zero idea what he’s saying. It’s like they’re speaking two different languages, because she’s never been this dumbfounded, she thinks.

“Bad at what?”

Han shakes his head, scratches his neck, almost in despair, “Seriously, I didn’t think this would happen. Shit, this is my fault. I’m so sorry for the confusion, but Luke’s just my friend.”

She fights not to narrow her eyes at him, half suspecting his statement to be a lie, out of embarrassment.

“Han, I know you tell me I’m intimidating sometimes, but I’m serious.”

“But I’m serious, General.”

Leia’s almost getting frustrated, and throws up her in despair, because what? What’s he trying to say, or run from, maybe? This man’s impossible.

“Leia- I’m sorry. You know what, I’ll go, okay? Sorry. I just- Luke’s advice didn’t work, but please don’t blame him-”

“Advice?” she’s afraid she snaps at him at that, but he seems unfazed, half out of his chair and stopping his movement.

What on earth is he talking about, now?

“I, well. I asked him about you, and tried to spend more time with you, because he said you’re not that big on, you know, elaborate wooing, or whatever. And coffee!” Now, excuse Leia’s language, but what the fuck.

“What?”

Han sits down again, ruffling his hair, looking at her with what seems like a million thoughts running through his head, and honestly, that’s exactly how Leia’s head is right now.

“You like coffee, right? Or did I mistake that, Jesus. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so forward with coming into your office, I-”

“Han, are you telling me you asked my brother for advice on how to… woo me?”

And the man in front of her nods, a few too many times, looks down and up at her and around the room and out of the window, and fuck, Han’s a mess.

Leia leans back. This cannot be happening.

Well, she’s not complaining. No, not at all.

She didn’t expect this for the life of her, though, and that’s why she’s at a loss for words at the moment.

By some unknown force in her life pulling this idiot into her life, making him so goddamn likable, making her have a crush after being comfortably single for a while, he’s been spending time with her brother because he wants to know her?

She almost wants to laugh, it’s ridiculous, laughable, if she wasn’t so lost for him. And there’s nothing wrong with that, she’ll have to get her brain to stop fighting her.

“Are you angry at me? Please don’t be! I, okay, Luke’s so great and like, dammit, I feel bad- If you’re offended I understand, believe me.” he says, finally settles his eyes on her again. “I know it’s unprofessional to flirt with your boss, anyway, so-”

“Did you ask Luke to hype you up?”

Han looks embarrassed. “Well, uh, maybe. A little bit?”

Leia nods, and now, she has to smile. Genuinely, getting continuously warmer, “You know I’m not that into cars, right?” and damn, she’s never seen him look so beat.

She almost, immediately, regrets those words, but continues regardless, because surely this situation can only benefit them, now. Screw whatever dating policies that may or may not be existing, she’ll look them up after this whole mess is cleared.

“I’m into you, though. Like, you didn’t have to enlist my brother to help you, but I appreciate the effort.” she tells him with a laugh.

And Han morphs into a look of shock. It’s almost like he’s going through every state of emotion at the same time.

“Are you serious?”

“Why else would I say it, Han?”

“Well- good point General.” he fumbles with this rings again, looks at her in that pondering way again, like he’s expecting this to be some sort of practical joke.

She finds his utter confusion adorable, almost, and scoffs at herself.

It’s stupid, this way he thought of wooing her, in his own words, but she gets it, somehow. This is unprofessional.

She’s stupid, because she shouldn’t be swooned by him so quickly, but also she’s not stupid, because this dumbass likes her and she likes him, and this one time, Leia decides not to argue with her own head.

Why would she do that, anyway, when Han’s admitted he tried to flirt with her, and they shared most of their life stories with each other, and seriously, they could, well, get on with other activities?

Not here, though. Obviously not.

Leia’s still a professional, mind that. She doesn’t have to be that after work, though, right? 

She wants to shake her head at Luke for agreeing to Han’s schemes, but that can wait. That can for sure wait.

Screw her idea of professionality, then.

“I don’t know anything about the company’s policies on… this. You mind if I come back to you on that?” she asks him, still smiling, and the way he’s smiling back to her, now, he’s turning on all his charm, but also, probably, realizing that he doesn’t really have to.

He’s almost acting like an excited puppy, God, Leia’s not sure how complicated this will be, but she’s prepared to take that fight.

Han’s to the point of almost dancing in his seat.

Her patience is practically bulletproof by now, anyway.

“Not at all.”

“And- well, are you doing anything after work?”

Han shakes his profusely.

Leia bites her lip, nods certainly in her confidence.

“You got something we can do? Like, I guess, a date? Other than car talk?”

“Oh, you bet.”

[rhabakoli]

Infinite White - 2

I don’t have any control, and @cgn-99​ asked... well, I do not live to please, but it’s pretty close. 

@dreamwritesimagines​ @i-am-always-famished​ @marauderskeeper​ @superwolfchild-fan​ @thescarsweleave​ @cgn-99​ @alicedopey​ @anxietysucks​ @kitsch-i-might-be​

The week went by, finals creeped closer, Fenja and her roommate never saw each other anymore, one being always in the library (Fenja) and the other one (Maeve) always on the track or the gym. That’s why at lunch on Wednesday, the only day of the week where they had lunch break at the same time, they had to eat and catch up at the same time. Which, to be honest, they did not manage. “How’s your boyfriend?” “He’s fine. Buried somewhere under his books and his dog and his scripts.” Maeve shoved a piece of steak into her mouth, rolling with her eyes when her taste buds exploded. “How do they make this so good, I don’t understand?” Someone had to give Fenja a medal for understanding her even with cheeks like a chipmunk.

“There are actually faeries working in the kitchen, that’s why everything tastes so good.”, she remarked, stabbing her own food with vigour.

Maeve swallowed, taking a sip of her water and pointed her fork at her friend. “How’s your essay going? Deadline was yesterday, wasn’t it?” Fenja nodded. “I had some slight difficulties with the conclusion, that made me want to just burn it, but I got help. I hope Finehair is satisfied, I’d die if I disappointed him.” Maeve chuckled. “Isn’t it funny that no one ever calls him by his real name? Even the other professors call him Finehair.” “Come on, look at it. It’s beautiful.” Fenja grinned. “And no one can pronounce his last name without butchering it or biting off their tongue. It’s a service to him, if anything.” “I have to agree.”, a male voice came from next to them, made the roomies look up wide eyed. “Professor.”, Fenja pressed out, terrified that he heard her. Maeve looked like she had swallowed her tongue, eyes bulging and face red. Harald “Finehair” Halfdanarson stood at their table, thermos under his arm and papers in his hand. His hair was in his typical braid, that made half the long-haired population of their school turn green with envy. They wanted to break into his bathroom and take a look at his hair care regime. “I saw you, and wanted to congratulate you on your essay, it was brilliant, Ms. Mueller.” “Oh, thank you, Sir.” “I am off in a minute, I have a meeting, but I’d like to submit it to the YWA. If that is something you’d be interested in.” Maeve squeaked and grabbed her friends hand over the table, immediately answering for her. “Of course she is! She’d be stupid, if she didn’t!” Fenja just agreed silently, still staring at her professor in stunned silence. The man laughed at her enthusiasm and did a little bow. “I’ll make sure they get it, then. Have a nice day, ladies.” He tipped his imaginary hat and wandered off, leaving the two of them in tense, excited silence. That is, until Fenja found her voice and breathed: “What. The. Fuck.” Maeve started giggling manically, her food forgotten for once. “The freaking Young Writers Association, freaking hell, Fenja!” “What the fuck.” “I know!” Maeve got up, came around the table and latched onto her roommates shoulders, giddy and basically vibrating from joy. “The last person from our school to have their writing submitted was one of the Ragnarssons, wasn’t it?” Fenja nodded, absent-mindedly correcting her: “Actually, it was Gala. She was also the first woman to get awarded by them and have her articles in their publications.” “You’re gonna get into the Hall of Fame, darling! I can feel it.” “I think I’ll be sick.”

The Young Writers Association was an organisation oriented to support young talents, help them establish themselves in the writer’s world. They collaborated with legal firms specialized on publishing, publishing houses both internationally renowned and small local ones, and they were always striving for fair and transparent relations between providers and talents. Tons of people submitted their works, craving for the YWA to judge their words, and to actually get through to an editor- It was a big stepping stone, and to have a Professor’s opinion definitely carried a bit of an extra weight, made them look a bit closer and be harsher in their judgement. Fenja was out of it for the rest of the day, even though she tried to get on with her study plan. But her brain continued to pull out doubts and questionable comments and insecurities, which, frankly, she did not need right now. With a frustrated grunt, she shoved her pens and books away and let her head fall onto the desk, forehead colliding with the wood, making her regret that particular move on the spot. “Ouch.”, she murmured, rubbing at it. Her phone chimed, and then again, and again, and again. She pressed her thumb against the sensor, unlocking it successfully. Then, not taking her head from the wood, she read the emails she got. “Spam, Spam, Finehair,- Linguae Populi?” She halted, burrowing through her brain, but she didn’t associate anything with that name. “What the heck is that?” After opening the mail, she groaned again. “That freaking baboon.”

Dear Ms. Mueller,

My brother told me you’d like to help us with developing and testing our Translator. I want to thank you for your time and efforts, firstly. Secondly, I’d like to meet up, to explain our work ethic and to hash out the details of your work with us. If my brother is to believe, you’re fluent in German, which - coincidentally - is one of the languages we haven’t yet managed to translate at all.

I’d be delighted to hear back from you.

Ingrid Ivarsdottir Chief of Development Linguae Populi

“Well, fuck me.” That looked way professional. Poor Ingrid, being burdened with such a challenged truffle pig of a brother. She decided to write her back, to not let her wait too long and maybe get her hopes up. She decidedly did not have the time to do this. Definitely not. And if Ragnar had listened, he’d known as well. Afterward, she opened the email from her professor, sitting up rapidly as she read the single sentence he’d sent.

just informing you that i submitted your essay, I wish you luck

Oh noooooo. She’d die of nervous gastric problems. Her forehead thumped against the wooden surface once more, making her wince. That hurt.

After a couple of minutes wallowing in her self doubt and nervousness, and bouncing knees, she decided to do something productive with her energy and go for a run. Bad idea. Big mistake. Even a bigger mistake than letting Finehair submit her essay. Her lungs were probably cussing at her, her heart was threatening to break through her chest and strangle her with her own arteries and veins, her legs burned as well as her windpipe. “Fuck. Nah. Never again.” The schools ‘Athletic Campus’ was situated behind the administrative building, bracketed in by dorm buildings left and right. It held a huge American Football field, one for soccer/lacrosse, and around both were of them tracks, which were just enough to house both the track team and Fenja as well as a couple of fellow masochistic psychopaths. The soccer field was empty, so she decided to crawl there and die in the green grass. Her shirt camouflaged into it, maybe they’d let her rot here. Her breath was rattling in her lungs, she could feel her rapid pulse in her fingertips and she was 99.9% sure her legs would not carry her back to the dorms. “Are you dead yet? Do I get to live in a single room?” “Geh sterben.” “I may not know what that meant, but I do know it was not nice.” Maeve bent over her roomie, hands on her knees and broad grin on her face. “I saw you running. You never run.” “Yes, and I just now remembered why.” Fenja struggled to get up, so Maeve grabbed her hands and pulled her into a sitting position. “It’s awful.” “No, it’s not.” “Yeah it is. You, my dearest honeyboo, you are just crazy.” Maeve shrugged. “Might be, but you’ll regret not training with me when zombies are after us and try to eat our nutritious, healthy brains.” With that, she made her way back to her team, waving at her friend as she jogged over. Backwards. Such a bragging bugger. Fenja sat there for a while, watching her friend and the team do their drills, and let the sun shine on her back. It was really nice today, blue sky, fresh air, a small breeze. Her thoughts drifted, thinking about her plans for the coming week, whether she’d be able to visit her grandparents and when she’d have to do the final reviews before her exams. Thus, she did not hear the soccer team walk out, the guys playing and fucking around. And, who would guess, of course one of them sent a ball flying, right towards her unsuspecting figure.

**

Part 3

[fanfictionlive]

Why are adverbs evil?

Maybe I should have put this in rants, but I'm not upset about it, I'm just curious what others think.

Stephen King and almost every other professional writer/editor/agent will tell you, "Avoid adverbs." Happily, Joyfully, Playfully, etc. And remember your High School English teacher telling you your composition needed more of them? Yeah, confusing isn't it?

I agree if you can show rather than tell, and thus avoid an adverb do it as in, instead of:

"Will you go out with me," he asked nervously.

Much better to go , "Will you go out with me?" he asked, refusing to make eye contact as he shuffled his feet.

But... too often I find that an action to show something can show a lot of things, and unless you've somehow established earlier that the character is in such a way, your readers might mistake it. Like the example above, maybe he's nervous, but maybe he's also planning on pulling a Carrie on her at the prom, and he refused to look at her because he's a liar?

Yes, everything including adverbs can be done to death, but sometimes they say things quickly and the reader doesn't have to wonder.

This has been bothering me, and it all sort-of came to a head last night while I watched my husband stroking his chin. And I realize that I depend on chin stroking to show someone is being thoughtful. But in truth, there are a million reasons why people stroke their chin. In the case of my husband, he was not thinking deep thoughts, trust me. But, he did forget to tell me he was out of shaving cream and had used shampoo instead and his skin was in that "Not quite itchy, but getting close" stage. He will also stroke his chin mindlessly, while watching TV. Why I don't know, it probably too, is related to absent minded scratching, but it's hard to be sure. The same with other gestures. Wringing hands is suppose to show nervousness, but maybe the character just washed their hands or maybe they're cold?

So, why is it bad to let the reader know what type of chin rubbing/hand wringing the reader should picture?

"We could just go tomorrow," He said, stroking his chin.

"We could just go tomorrow." he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

When I avoid adverbs I find myself writing around them to show what I could have shown with one silly word. "Oh, I can't write excitedly, so I need to show excited gestures. He needs to bounce on the soles of his feet, or his eyes need to be wide, or something that says what I could say in one stupid word. And those gesture I'm showing can be mistaken for nervousness too.

And if that wasn't enough, I've had professional writers tell folks they should avoid adverbs too. Because apparently telling your readers it's a blue car is too much. Just say it's a car! I get it, let the readers decide things about the car, but I don't think my job as a writer is to go, "Sorry, I won't tell you anything about the car, least your imaginations rust from my being too descriptive."

If you come up with the perfect way to avoid an adjective so you're doing more showing than telling, then by all means, don't use an adjective. But, at least for me, I don't have a problem with lines like:

"Don't give me that," she said, pushing him playfully.

Rather than taking extra words and time to sorta tell me that the character isn't upset with the guy, even though he's telling her something that might be mistaken as something she doesn't like and might be pushing him because she's a little miffed, one silly word can let the reader know, and it sets up the whole tone for the conversation.

Yes, I agree, don't rely on them all the time. Show actions if you can, that show the reader the mood. But it seems a bit irritating to take a whole tool of writing and say, "Nope, if you want to be a good writer, stop doing this."

And, I'm reminded of a writing class I took when I was a young adult, where the teacher drilled into us that swearing was a no-no. It Just Wasn't Done, unless you were trying to establish a character as evil right off the bat, but even then it was lazy, lazy writing.

Now, I still believe there is no reason to swear in narrative unless you're writing in the first person and that person swears a lot. But nobody blinks an eye now when a character goes, "What the hell, dude?" Or if really pissed, "What the fuck, dude?"

So is it really bad to use adverbs or is that just a fashion trend in writing? What do you folks think?

submitted by /u/Willow_Edmond [link] [comments] from FanFiction: Where Magical Ponies battle Imperial Titans https://ift.tt/36r0s0S

[blogwritetheworld]

Featured Writer: Sarah Feng

Californian Sarah Feng has wasted no time getting busy with the craft of writing. By the age of twelve, Sarah had written two novels, racked up over 155,000 reads on Wattpad, and earned her first publishing deal. Since then, the now 14-year-old has gone on to be recognized by the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards and serves as one of our current Write the World Peer Review Ambassadors. While it’s true Sarah has accomplished a great deal in a few short years, she’s also a self described “normal” teenager who enjoys romping around her quiet suburban town—boba tea in hand, with her closest friends in tow. In our Q&A with Sarah, she talks more about her surprisingly relaxed approach to the writing process and where she sees her writing taking her in the future.

At the age of eleven you wrote your first book, Beneath. What pushed you to tackle a huge task like this?

It's hard to pinpoint the exact reasons for starting Beneath, but even when I was 11, there was just something so compelling about being able to detail a full, complex story, from start to finish.

It was like someone handed me silk, yarn, and needles, and the whole tale just unspooled itself from there on out. Of course, Beneath was nowhere near perfect (plotholes, two-dimensional characters, and amateurish writing galore!), but although the task of writing it seemed so simple, it proved itself to be much trickier than I thought. I had to map out characters, sustain their personalities, try and evolve their relationships, propel the plot along with a fresh range of characters, and juggle all these different factors in the back of my mind while writing each sentence. For an 11-year-old with the attention span of a ladybug, it was tough, but in the end, it made the closure that much sweeter.

After writing Beneath, you subsequently wrote your second novel, Chiaroscuro. How did your writing improve between books? What lessons did you learn from writing the first book that you tried to incorporate in the second book?

I was 12 when I started writing Chiaroscuro. Since then, it's collected about 155,000 readers on the online reading platform Wattpad. I was (and still am) 14 when Chiaroscuro was self-published in paperback and eBook this March. Soon after, I received a publishing offer for Chiaroscuro from Pulse Publishing and accepted it.

As for what I learned from writing Beneath–definitely, planning out helps. That's my biggest advice to any writer who's looking to write a novel with lots of twists. With Beneath, I didn't work out any outline or plan, so there were more plot holes in that book than hairs on my head. With Chiaroscuro, I paid meticulous attention to every detail of the character's backstories–what color was the gun? Why did James say x, y, and z on page 37? Although they're small, they make a world of difference. Fixing these small issues and making sure every piece of dialogue and description fit with what was revealed later on infinitely helped stitch my story into one cohesive body.

You've submitted to—and been honored by—a number of writing awards, you work as the prose reader at Glass Kite Anthology, and you've served as a Write the World Peer Review Ambassador. Suffice it to say, writing is a huge part of your life. What advice do you have for other young writers who want to incorporate writing into their lifestyle on a more consistent basis?

Definitely, don't force yourself to write just to follow a rigid writing schedule. Write when the inspiration is so strong it electrocutes you down to your bones. I am in no way a prolific writer, nor am I really accomplished compared to thousands of teen writers out there, but one thing I have realized is that creativity doesn't arrive every other day from 6-7:30. When it hits you, take it, cherish it, and milk it. However, when you don't feel very inspired, try for a few small writing drills–describing what's around you, capturing sensory details, sketching a friend's personality without ever using the names of emotions, etc. Do these exercises just to lubricate your thoughts, but never make yourself write just for the sake of doing it. If you work with creativity instead of trying to summon it, you'll find your writing portfolio expands pretty rapidly.

And definitely get feedback from others. Ask your parents, ask your friends, post it on Write the World, anything. Praise and constructive criticism are sure to keep you going.

What was it like being a WtW Peer Review Ambassador?

Being a Peer Review Ambassador for Write the World has been a truly enlightening experience. Not only did I get to meet a team of talented writers, but I also got the opportunity to read such a varied, thoughtful, and culturally rich range of written pieces. The exposure and different perspectives helped make me a more well-rounded and open-minded writer.

Additionally, critiquing the works of others has helped me become a better editor for myself, too. Now when I write, I apply a much more meticulous revision process to my works pre-submission, knowing that someone on the other end is going to review it the same way I've done for many works on Write the World. I have also gotten better about looking at my writing more objectively and strip away bits that may have worked well in my personal thoughts but not for the piece itself.

To all those Write the World members who might be reading this article, when the next quarter opens for ambassador submissions, apply. It's such an incredible experience, and I promise you won't regret it.

What are some of your longterm goals as a writer?

High-school-wise, I want to write two more novels and get published in a handful more literary magazines. I would love to become a Scholastic Art & Writing Awards national gold medalist sometime before I graduate, though this is highly unlikely.

As ambitious as it sounds, by the end of college, I'd like to have my novel(s) published professionally and in actual bookstores, along with a poetry chapbook. I'd also like to work as a reporter for some period of my life, as I recently got into journalism. I report for the town newspaper and am the incoming Arts editor for my school paper. I would also love to be nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

How would you describe your hometown in California to someone who's never been?

People riding horses, CEOs living down the street, relatively quiet, soft sunsets, smart people everywhere.

In all fairness, though, Los Altos and its sibling city Los Altos Hills are the epitome of the quiet suburban life. There are a lot of stereotypes surrounding the cities in Silicon Valley—rich people, genius students, rich genius students, etc., and while they may apply to some students in Los Altos, most of us are just normal. We make up a small town. We get boba at the mall, watch Netflix. We buy silver trinkets from downtown, laugh while stumbling over leaf-carpeted sidewalks. We go hiking in the dusk and drink tea and laugh too loud. This is us. This is Los Altos.

About Sarah

I'm Sarah Feng, a high school freshman who attends Pinewood School (Los Altos, CA). I lived in China for 4 years until I returned to the states to start school. Currently, I'm studying the chemical composition of words, the flight of birds, and the distance between pu'er tea and nighttime. My works have been recognized by the regional Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, the California Coastal Commission, the Write the World Novel Writing Prize, and more. My young adult novel Chiaroscuro recently came out in paperback. I've been writing for as long as my memory goes. Writing helps me strip away the clutter of the world and cut to the bone of my thoughts. For me, it's a way of summarizing. It's how I tell my own truths. Outside of my amateurish writing, I make art, figure skate, run track, and talk to my friends. My experience as a Peer Review Ambassador at Write the World helped me get a job as a prose reader at Glass Kite Anthology, and I am ever grateful to Write the World for giving me the opportunity to review for them. To learn more, visit www.sarahfeng.weebly.co

[obsidianarchives]

Regine Sawyer

Regine L Sawyer is the Owner/Writer at Lockett Down Productions; a small press comic book company that publishes cutting edge Sci-Fi and Horror Comics such as The Rippers, Ice Witch, and Eating Vampires. She is also the Coordinator and Founder of the Women in Comics Collective International; an organization that focuses on the merit and craft work of Women and Non-binary people working in the comic book industry. They host events across the country such as Art Shows, Workshops, Panel Discussions and their own convention, Women in Comics Con. In addition, she has written several articles on Race and Gender in Comics for Graphic Policy, The Freelancer's Union, Comic Book Resources, and Time Magazine. Currently, Regine is a Creator-in-Residence at Kickstarter, working on campaigns that will be coming out later this year.

Black Girls Create: What do you create?

I create comic books, safe spaces for women and marginalized people in the comic book industry. I started out creating comics 13 years ago. I created a couple of different series, first was The Rippers, then came Ice Witch and Eating Vampires, and I've been working on those books ever since.

Seven years ago, I started the Women in Comics Collective International. We started as eight people who were on a panel for Women in Comics. I was asked to moderate. Not only were we really engaging as panelists, but the audience also found it intriguing that we were all women of color. Some of us hadn’t met too many women in the industry. Not because there aren't any, but because we artists sometimes live in a bubble. You're just writing and shit and not really thinking about connecting with anybody. Especially as women, particularly women of color, you kinda want to just keep your head down and get a check. And you sometimes don't realize you need community because of all the crazy nonsense happens in this industry. So after that, we were asked to do more events. We did panel discussions at first. Then I was asked to do art shows. I'd never curated an art show and I just said yes. I really want people to know, it's so important to say yes. A year or two later, someone asked if I did workshops. I just said yes. Never taught a workshop, but I said I'd figure it out. That all culminated in Women in Comics Con. We still do workshops across the country. It began with eight members and now we have over 150 members across the world. It's still evolving and changing, as am I, as is Lockett Down Productions.

BGC: Tell me about Lockett Down Productions. Where did the name come from?

Lockett is my middle name, my grandmother’s maiden name. I didn't think of it as a cute locket, but like "lock the door." I wanted to change my name for a while, but eventually I said, I ain't changing shit! So when the time came for me to put a company together, I said I have to call it Lockett Down.

I started working with an independent company as a managing editor. This was after deciding I wanted to pursue comics on a regular basis. I always collected comics, since I was 8 or 9 years old. It was always my jam. I lived, breathed, rolled around in X-Men. I collected all the books, all the comic book cards. I was all in. But I got to a certain age and I didn't know what any of this was going to do, so I said let me get a real job. I had written all my life. In high school, I wrote stories to get into college. I got scholarships through my writing. I was also selected for the National Book Foundation residency for their grant writing camp right here in NY. But I got a degree in hospitality to be a chef. I worked for a corporate food manager for about 13 years. But two years in, I was like you only live once, I have to do more than this. I always wanted to publish comics, I'm going to do it. I was telling a friend in a local comic book shop and someone overheard me. He said show me what you have and I did and he offered to publish my work.

I ended up learning all the things not to do in comics, which was a good lesson. I taught myself how to edit comic books, how to reviews submissions, what to ask for, how to put together ads, and how to find artists for work. After about a year, I said I can do this for myself. In 2007, I created Lockett Down Productions. I haven't looked back since.

BGC: Did you quit your hospitality job at the time?

Absolutely not. I wasn't crazy! Are you kidding me?

When I created Lockett Down, I had been laid off from my job. While I was in transition of getting a new job, I was trying to get my druthers together, like I'm going to do this comic book shit, I’m going to figure it. This was before Kickstarter. I am the one who paid for all of those books, out of pocket. I was determined to have something. I started with a lot of preview books. I did them by hand; I had a book stapler. I taught myself how to make an ashcan and made mini-books. I was selling for a good two years, then I started getting them professionally published. In 2009, I published the first Rippers book. Within two and a half years of initially meeting that gentleman, I had my first full book. I wasn't going to end my dream. The stories are in me, let’s make this happen.

BGC: Why do you create?

I can’t not create. Whatever it is. If you see any of my social media pages, I'm making something. I’m making a hat, I'm putting some kind of event together. Or learning how to create — I’m a Kickstarter resident right now. When I'm binge-watching stuff, I'm crocheting or I might be typing up a little story or something. I can’t not create something, that’s just who I am. I'm laying in my bed half the time doing it. It’s up to you to figure out what you want to do and what you want to put out there and how you want to do it. So I choose to do it from my bed. With one little thumb.

BGC: Who is your audience?

My audience is Black women and women of color. And people who identify with being women. It’s about us. I want people to enjoy my work. I want them to get lost in the work because you just need that escapism. I think that’s highly important. In this day and age, you need some realism and some escapism and you need something in the center. Women in Comics was initially for women of color. Yeah, I want everyone to read my stories, but I did have our community in mind. You can do this, too. This is not out of your touch or the realm of possibility. I want it to be accessible to everyone who wants to be part of a comic book community. My people come first and anyone who wants to come through can come through, too. I like to be specific in how things are for everyone. If you want to learn, be embraced, embrace others, if you wanted to give up yourself, this is for you.

BGC: Who or what inspired you to do what you do? Who or what continues to inspire you?

To start, my family. My brother. He's ridden through all this with me. Just as someone who bought my first comic books. We would go into the shops and he'd buy me stacks. I used to compete in video games, when I was like 11, in Street Fighter and Donkey Kong. My brother enrolled me in Blockbuster — I'm dating myself, I don't give a shit — they had an annual competition and they would scout who the biggest winners were. That year was Donkey Kong. My brother would drill me. He was so encouraging. I remember, this boy made his sister cheat by jumping in front of my screen while I was doing it — I did not miss a beat! And my brother was like if that girl would have messed up your game he would have gone to the manager, like 'you reset the game!' He’ll support me on Twitter, he'll tag celebs. He’s always my cheerleader. I give him a lot of that credit.

The Women in Comics members are also my inspiration. They are caring and loving and strong and they’re steadfast and tenacious and they roll with whatever is coming into my head. We are a family. Sometimes, I throw them into the water. And other times, they will step up for me, time and time again. At conventions, there are not a lot of us in the mainstream spaces. But we roll together like a clique. "We got you because you got us."

And my friend Robert Garrett, of XMoor Studios, who just passed away. He's my inspiration. I met him when I started in the industry. He was one of the few men who wasn’t looking for nothin’. He just wanted to be friends. He liked people who were on their grind and about something. From that first moment, we were the best of friends. He was always dedicated to his work and promotion and putting together good solid ideas. He was very prolific, he wrote every day, even while he was sick. He was sick for the past year, but was always writing and creating. It was something he couldn't help, it was just in him. That's also my inspiration, that you gotta keep going and pushing. Time really waits for no man.

BGC: Why is it important as a black person to create?

We create the best stuff! We can’t help it. We are such a creative people. We make something out of nothing. And that’s a lot of marginalized people of color in general. We figure it out. We’ll make something with bottle caps and string. (And the mainstream will steal it and it'll be on some shelf at Target.)

We are a people that are constantly creating and bringing things to the mainstream (to either steal or buy). Also, it’s important so that our community knows that we're capable of creating different things. Because even though we are such creative people, we downplay it. It’s a protective measure, it’s generational. Our parents were like will this kid be able to pay for anything? You don’t want to be a doctor or lawyer? That stays in our psyche, like can this be monetized? It’s important because 1. we’re creative people, and 2. it’s important that as we’re creating that somebody cares about it. When that happens, our families finally pay attention. Sometimes they didn’t realize until the person was gone. That’s why we have to create and be encouraging to each other. We create so much, it should be out to the masses. People should see us in different capacities. So our communities know we are capable of all the things, not just 1, 2, or 3. We can do it all.

BGC: How do you balance creating with the rest of your life?

I have to do more for myself. My mother would always say, "treat yourself good, honey." I need to treat myself better. But what I have been doing is going on Groupon and getting me a spa day. I love Groupon and Living Social. I try to go to a spa once a month on Groupon. Do something affordable, but I also need to do more. Just to have some self-care happening. I meditate, pray. My fitness class. There’s more to do, I do too much. I'm trying to figure it out because I need a big ass break. But at least trying to get the spa visits in, that’s helped.

BGC: Any advice for young creators/ones just starting?

Do research about your craft. Write every day if you can. If you draw, draw every day. Keep yourself in practice. Meet other people. It's easy to sit in a corner and draw or write. But it’s important to meet people who do what you do. It's validating. You can get advice and referrals. Go to conventions. Nothing that costs a bunch of money, maybe get a portfolio review. Talk to people, talk to vendors — don't just talk to the vendors, buy their stuff, especially the indie vendors — but talk to the professionals to find out what they do on a paid basis. Collect phone numbers and email addresses. Keep in contact with people. Broaden your horizons and your mind. And expand your circle. Especially if you want to be and this industry like this.

BGC: Any future projects?

Women in Comics Con is June 30th at the Queens Museum in New York City. I did a short story for The Dead Beats Anthology from a Wave Blue World. The crypt keeper is a cute, brown, delicious girl — she got dreadlocs and shit — and she’s in a music store and has haunted items. So it's stories based on these haunted items. I'm launching a Kickstarter possibly in July. I also have events coming up: Drink, Draw Pole. On June 30th, some WINC members are participating in an event called She Did Comic Books. It's a series where every other month this organization has people talk about different things women have done that people don't really know about. Two of our members, Shameka Mitchell and Tara Nakashima-Donahue will be speaking. I'll be at the ALA Conference in DC in the 3rd week of June. Schaumburg Library is having a Literary Festival on the 29th of June. I may be at BrooklynComicCon, on the 15th and 16th of June, I'll be on a panel and tabling. Then SDCC and BlerdCity in July.

[starlightrph-blog]

Penetrating the Medias Psyche

threshold B. RosePenetrating the Medias PsycheWriting thing | febrile 26, 2008Gerard Braud, correspondence training consultant, discusses ploy of the media business with verge B. Rose, and attempt suggestions to assure that a companys stories are told fairly and beyond media bias. Ever sit open-mouthed in amazement although reading a news story? Ever land so disturbed that you hurl padding at your television? assuming that so, yourser not alone.Were all sleepy of the teasers, of the version that energy nowhere, convey Gerard Braud of great Braud Communications. Reporters set up a situation, pledge hard legwork but albeit you regard the story, you win facts that are either/or loosely related or arent related at all. Its a enormous letdown.For communicators, however, it can be much bad than a letdown. attractiveness can be a disaster. Reporters will act as judge and jury if you let them, respond Braud. more many reporters have isolated three effects on their mind. One, this information has to be great because I want to impress the boss. Two, I want to win an award. Three, I want to put this story on my take up so I can land a also prestigious, above paying job. Braud knows. Before opening his consulting firm, he worked for 15 years as a reporter in print, receiver and television. I left the trade because fantasy were catching more and more superficial, he says. Reporters were also lumping all nature of unconnected facts in sync to make it show that article sinister was going on in communal America. location communicators see a club working in the finest interests of its worker and customers, reporters connect the like dots to come up with a picture of the monster that heart under the bed. unusually Braud lust corporate South America to be a control freak. in that means management must term their rejection about the severity of negative news, while collective communicators have to pep above and beyond what they do now to protect their company. A lot of communicators decent go through the motions, he says. They create a emergency communications plan, but they dont attempt it or review it annually. They conduct correspondence training but dont grip refreshers on a legitimate basis. They often embargo role hit with supervisor before an interview. related Tiger Woods, you requisite practice your technique constantly. Thats the only means to win.Communicators can also take the offensive and penetrate the medias psyche. Corporate communicators are enclosed by the same head amendment business as the media, Braud explains, and they have the right to inspect into columnist motives. granted that communications professionals can drill the medias psyche, they can anticipate the style of reporters, editors, and producers. They owe it to their organization to go that extra mile. Doing so will again enhance their reputation and increase their value. You have the right to control the way the press screen your organization, says Braud. Obviously, you dont have control bygone the end edit or the closing rewrite, but you have control of everything top up to that. You dont have to hunch what the media will do; you have the ability to find out ahead of time. How? By asking lots of tough questions. Before congruent to accord the correspondence access to your team and your management, charge extensive account with the producer or the interviewer to boast out situation the fantasy is going. When you get your questions answered, you inaugurate to reveal what the reporter hankering to do. Nine point out of 10, you will be able to isolate definitive topics and explain them. The result: the columnist will have to kickoff discarding intelligence and speculation that would otherwise have gone into the story. True, a little members of the disclosure will resist. After all, if they tell you everything they believe and you fair them position their presumption are incorrect, they will see their story dawn to melt right before their eyes. They injunction want to see that happen. through encourage them to harangue to you, lay downward some soil rules. meanwhile you confess a interviewer or a producer that you are willing to cooperate and be completely open count that you expect the same from them, Braud suggests. mention them that you will share word with them and in return you want them to division information with you. They usually agree.Still, many communicators balk at asking a long calendar of questions. They know reporters and producers injunction want to answer them all. They may also feel that their search are intrusive, even rude, and that their persistence will enmity the media. But their determination to get what they use will exhibit their toughness and intelligence, leading the media to be more careful find out their facts. The radio needs to know that you are going to hold them to aforesaid a tremendous standard that there will be purgatory to salary if they dont living up to it or get the facts wrong, says Braud.You will likewise be good to evaluate the situation. Why wait until subsequently the experience to detect that the story slant was motivated by special wants or cmovieshd Braud remembers one network pamphlet producer who wanted to do a report on sexual dysfunction in females. Her curve was last there a female variant of Viagra? My applicant was a sex therapist at a major training medical intermediate and her research had to accomplish with unlocking mental section to enjoy good sex, says Braud. The originator kept tricky to steer the information and win the therapist to consider issues out of her cutting-edge research.In preliminary exchange with the producer, Braud concluded that the originator suffered from the reproductive dysfunction she was research in the story, that she was embarrassed back seeking help, and that she requested to enforcement the biography so she could attain information for herself. subsequently meeting with the originator herself, the therapist agreed. In the end, she decided not to cooperate because her research execute not prepared the biography angle. affecting last material she wanted was to have her work misrepresented.Communicators must level the caper field, suggest Braud. You need to know that you have both the right and the power to scrutiny deeply within reporters psyches. Give yourself the right to level out the medias motives. If you dont, your organization and its stakeholders will suffer for it.Copyright Rose Communications, Inc. brink B. Rose, ABC, CIMA is a writer and editor with more thaw 25 senility of maturity in selling and organizational communications. In addition to marketing brochures and more collateral, she writes white papers, shareholder reports commentaries, newsletter and magazine articles, and authority communications betwixt other things. To read more about Eves services, visit www.everose.com