The gag is… THIS is my actual #writerhead.
It’s literally a snapshot of me after I’d happily collapsed on the bed in the back of the condo, writhing with the comprehension that I’d written the fuck out of this scene. And set up all the pegs I needed to weave that arc where the spirits of those kids wanted to go.
Higher me was like “I want you to grab a pic of this. See how you look IN it, for real.”
…So I’d shrugged, grabbed my phone, popped two photos, looked ...and cracked the fuck up.
Glowing. Raw. Wild.
Worldbuilding.
Not one stitch of makeup on. Hair piled on top my head. Eyes pure.
I’d finally nailed the scene where Gabryl’s mom Danise cracked at her father’s funeral due to the child molester showing up. He’d been protected by the church. The pastor had been up to the same shit, enabled by the church mothers looking away as they’d demonized the victims. A slew of kids had killed themselves or ended up strung out. The pastor’s wife tried to snuff it all out and Danise finally went the fuck off, freeing herself and all the souls of those kids that had come up with her.
I knew it was going to happen. The Book Babies and their Caracs tell me their story beats as we go. I thought it was going to be a massacre. & it was a bloodbath.
…It just went down in a completely different way than I’d expected.
May whatever your dharma is bring clarity up outta you like world-building #writerhead does for me.
Onto NOV Nov, yall.
-AB
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