Write What You Want! Novels & Stories

Breathe in one two three four five Breathe out one two three four five "If you ever catch yourself wondering why you're doing this, just remind yourself that you're doing this for whatever hobby or interest or collection that you're doing and that there are better things to be doing with your time that you're not doing because you're working, because you need the money to be doing the things that you love, alright? You're doing this to write that novel, to make that painting, or pottery piece, or to buy those tulips for your garden. Not because you like standing around while some lady, with her screaming toddler, screams in your face and spits on ya', alright?"

Len says, gaining my attention once again. “How would I be able to do that?” I ask confused. I am not a teacher, and I don’t really want to teach teenagers how to act and behave, especially when I know very little about their world. “You run this empire, just let them see that.” “And if they don’t want to know?” I ask. More likely that they are not going to want to be told what to do by someone younger than them, especially if that person is a girl. “Then you can tell me, and we will leave them to their own devices. But I am hoping that you will give them the shove they need to finally step up and become the men they should be rather than the children they are.”

Without, without external validation that I was worth something. "I need to think about it," I said. "Really think. Not just react. Not just, just do what seems obvious. I need to think." "Okay. Think. You have two weeks. Use them. Figure out what you actually want. Not what you think you should want. Not what's practical or smart or, or financially responsible. What you want. Deep down. Really want." "What if I don't know? What if I've spent so long being practical and responsible that I don't know what I want anymore?"

I intoned lazily. “You know, you should thank your stars that I’m not a woman. Women are always angry when a man remembers them just because they want something,” he drawled grumpily. I chuckled. “You’re right, and I’m quite happy you’re not a woman. It would have been awkward.” “So, what is it you want?” “I want you to track down two people. Just track down one, and the other will be within grasp. I’ll send you their personal information.” I paused, serious now. “I’d be really grateful if you could give it your all, Vix.”

Well actually it says dick head. Sighing, I swipe up to answer. “What do you want from me?” “I just want you to give me the chance to explain everything. Will you please hear me out?” “Fine. I am about to head out to get something to eat. Meet me at Olive Garden in 30 minutes.” “Ok. Done. See you then.”

0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;}

"𝘉𝘶𝘵... 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭." "𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵?" "𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰� ��'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘵, 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺?"

If it were an ordinary woman, she would have hung up the phone right away calling it crazy words. -Ah! I'm goosebump-inducingly excited right now! Then am I stepping out to the forefront in that dangerous board? While helping our part-timer? “Yes. Though I thought you were the most perfect suitable person... you may refuse. Because I will look for another lady.” -What are you talking about? I'm itching to be of help to our part-timer, you know? That suitable person, I will do it! “You must take on a considerably dangerous and sexy role. I don't want to force you.”

"What are we doing then?" Xavier hands me some paper and a pen. "I want you to write out all the things that you had to endure in your past. All the things that you hated, any insecurities, any regrets, any self doubt, and all the things you wished had never happened. I know it's a lot, but we have all night, or week if needed." I look at him, as I fumble the pen in my hand. Unsure about his idea.

"You okay over there?" "Peachy," I muttered without looking at him. Grandma, blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil, chimed in, "Astrella, don’t be so quiet up there! Grace was just telling me about her dreams of becoming a writer. You should give her some advice." I forced a tight smile, turning slightly. "Sure, Grace." Then I mumbled, 'First tip, write about what you know. Like, I don’t know… boundaries and personal space?' Dax snorted under his breath because I knew he was the only one who heard it. "Astrella!" He scolded.