*TRIGGER WARNINGS* Discussion of self-destructive thoughts, death, loss of a child (not mine… don’t worry… she’s still alive).
I had a very destructive impulse tonight.
It felt like the artist equivalent of when you have a stray thought about swerving into oncoming traffic, or when you’re standing at the edge of a precipice, either indoors or out, and want to step forward into sheer air and fall.
Do y’all have those thoughts from time to time? Is it just me? Is it a mental illness thing?
All of a sudden, I really REALLY wanted to delete my entire work in progress.
Today overall was not a fun day.
Even if I wore fun eye makeup to work in honor of Pride Month having started. Asymmetrical, as far as how wide each band of color is on each side, but it was a rush-job, and I didn’t take the time to ferret out my makeup brushes.
Not sure if it had largely come off from me sipping water, by the time I took that pic in the car, but I had tinted Cherry Cola lip balm on, too. Doesn’t look apparent there.
Netted some compliments on my eyeshadow. That was fun.
But. STRESS. Lots and lots of stress. And much fatigue.
Stopped to see my mom after work then headed home. Considered ordering delivery of some kind, but it felt like a waste. THEN, I considered taking advantage of some rad Bath and Body Works sales, but once I added my CVV to the order, it routed me back to the homepage and emptied my cart. This may sound incredibly whiny or stupid, but I just had no will to follow the purchase-impulse twice and try to order again.
I also saw a reel tonight that reminded me so painfully of how much I miss my daughter, now that it’s birthday season (hers and mine… mine first, hers next month). I’ve started saving for plane ticket money AGAIN… but it’s going to take some time. And I think I would still have to buy the tickets WELL in advance to bring the price down, which would mean an additional delay.
It’s been almost a year since I saw her last, and I don’t know when I will see her again.
I’m starting to cry all over again, just having typed that.
(Not my cat, not the cat from the reel I’m about to discuss… just a cute cat I found while sifting through images with bi pride flag colors in them… but it felt appropriate to include).
The reel was about a cat whose kittens had all died. Traumatized, the cat turned aggressive, and was on a euthanasia list at a shelter. A couple adopted her anyway, and had a baby about one year later.
Once the cat met the baby, she took to her immediately, as if she were her own kitten. All aggressive behavior stopped. One of the captions stated the loss of a child is the worst pain imaginable. That was what got me.
I explained this to kiddo.
“I’m not lost-lost,” she replied. “I’m still alive. Unless I’m texting from beyond. Boo spooky.”
And that kind of made me laugh for a moment.
But I guess I have just been rather overwhelmed for all sorts of reasons.
Maybe that feeling isn’t as pervasive as it seems on the surface? I don’t know. I’d have to go back and look at past entries. Despair tends to lie and convince you that you’ve felt it forever, that it’s never-ending.
Everything just hurts tonight.
I’d also been struggling with worry over something I saw on Threads (clearly I need to step away from social media for a bit… even if typing up this entry possibly contradicts that). Anyway, the Threads post, part of it, addressed how there are female writers in MM spaces that are “problematic AF.”
I asked myself, am *I* problematic AF for writing the Rock is Undead series?
The same post also posited that not all men who write queer women are fetishizing. So would it stand to reason not all women who write queer men are fetishizing? I don’t know. I just enjoy stepping into a masculine headspace and writing from a male point of view.
Not even all of my male characters are queer. Many aren’t. I don’t find it difficult to relate to either perspective, having grown up a tomboy, plenty of male friends for much of my life (though not so much lately, working in a women’s retail store, etc.). Being bi helps, too, because you have a feel for attraction from various angles. At least, that’s how I see it.
Smoke and Crows (again, actual title includes an ampersand) was from Acacia’s point of view. Very female. So I don’t always write through a masculine lens.
My short fiction I think is a mix.
Winter’s Gibbet peered into all three main characters’ heads (two female, one male), and included some third-person narration wherever there were details the reader couldn’t find out any other way.
But that whole maelstrom of emotions mixed in with self-doubt and maybe a little imposter syndrome, and I wanted to ditch the whole project, even though I’ve been hard at work on it since March 18th. I just looked. 10 weeks. Nearly 3 months.
Sure, there’s an element of feeding into a fantasized interpretation of subtle vibes from The Lost Boys. I guess from that perspective, it’s slash-fiction-adjacent. But it’s not actually fan-fiction. That would seem to be different? I made too many changes, each one substantial.
Hell, Dorian doesn’t even talk like David, generally. He’s much more formal, which I did on purpose, since I made him so much older, vampirically.
Haven was kind of a challenge, maybe because as my bestie observed, Star doesn’t have a great deal of depth or development throughout the film. Another fan might feel compelled to dispute this, but she seems secondary to the power dynamics between David and Michael. She’s a pawn between them.
Pretty sure David and the rest of the vampires say “Michael” more often than Star does, too. I guess it’s the most-repeated word in the entire film, especially if you include diminutive forms like “Mike” and “Mikey.”
I’m not really sure how I would go about comparing and contrasting Jared and Michael.
Have I mentioned the meme about The Lost Boys characters as high school archetypes, that called Michael “lawful stupid?” I think I did. There was another great one on Pinterest where David says, “You’re one of us now. Cleaner, and dumber, but one of us.”
He really doesn’t seem to catch on very quickly, until he sees David sink his fangs into a mohawk-ed punk’s head. Even after seeing his own reflection filmy and transparent, at which point, his brother TELLS him he’s a vampire, he still disagrees.
If memory serves, the scene of him floating up to the ceiling of his room ALSO takes place before he confronts Star and asks her “What’s happening to me?”
Jared doesn’t think much of a couple tender spots on the inside of one of his thighs, from where Dorian fed while he was sleeping, etc. I feel like if I *had* gone with any kind of half-vampire motif (which I did not), he still would’ve puzzled out the transition. Especially if someone spelled it out.
Then there’s Lenore, with her own complicated romantic developments. She feels pretty 3-dimensional to me. Very protective of Jared. Bold and beautiful, inside and out. Not a character from the movie. Inspired by a character I created for the RPG Monster of the Week, who was supposed to be a daughter of one of the Frog brothers. Only older than my RPG character was.
And Erik and Pierce and Raul. I think I did okay, giving each one a unique voice and personality. Raul isn’t as main-character-energy as the rest of them, but I did my best.
Anyway, when I told kiddo about wanting to delete the story, she told me not to, that I would regret it SO, so much. I didn’t. I just really, really wanted to.
Probably the most self-destructive thing I will have done before bed tonight is finishing off the rest of the cheese and garlic Texas toast. But then, I didn’t have 3 full meals before coming home. So I suppose that’s not so bad? Ate some fruits and veggies today. Drank water, not JUST zero sugar soda.
I feel guilty even entertaining darker thoughts because a good friend’s father just died from cancer. We were supposed to have gone to a baseball game after I finished work. The park was right by my job. I was going to head over there directly. But I saw a text from her, when I checked my phone for just a moment, while in the back. She’d said she wasn’t sure if she could still go because her dad was in the hospital. I reassured her, be with your family. I understand. It’s okay.
He never made it home.
I’ll have to check on her again tomorrow. I did tell her to let me know if there was anything I could do. Haven’t heard back since she said she was at the funeral home, making arrangements.
I suppose realities like that sometimes make even “soft” horror seem so superfluous. How can I write so cavalierly about death when other people are actually experiencing it?
But, I tried to handle those scenes with sensitivity. They made ME cry, anyway.
Kiddo said not to worry about what anyone else says. “Write what you want.”
I suppose I still will. Just not tonight. It isn’t a getting back on the horse kind of night.
I think for now, I will top off my water bottle. Cram it full of a whole tray’s worth of ice, more, if it will fit, get ready for bed, and curl up with Lost Souls. I need some comfort.
All the Bright and Sparkly Things 
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