Write What You Want! Novels & Stories

I want to get out of here! ---

Sat with the cursor for a moment. I thought about the coffee I’d returned to hand over, the folder she’d left, standing in the area of Brooklyn at seven forty-three on a Tuesday evening having decided, somewhere between leaving the office and arriving at her building, that there was a reasonable explanation for why this was a sensible thing to do. I thought about the long drive home. I typed three words at the top of the document. What I want. I sat with them. Then I started writing. Not a strategy. Not a plan. Not a managed approach to a complicated situation. Just the true thing, set down in the order it arrived, without editing for usefulness.

Serena's POV Saturday morning. The Brooklyn apartment. The radiator making its argument. The view of the other building. The cafe on the corner preparing for the weekend rush. I was at the small table by the window with my coffee and my notebook. Not a strategy notebook. Not the kind I had kept for years. Lists of positions and leverage points and coordination strategies. This notebook was different. I had started it three weeks ago. At my friend's suggestion. She had said: *Write down what you actually want. Not what you've calculated. What you actually want.*

e. s.d.p.t.g.….….e..…e—d.l.e.w.s?e?h..e.d.e.s.Y.g:n.n.s.e.e.s.d.e..e.g.n..”.”y.??s..”. .”. !”s.t.y.d.s.y.s.e.y.p.y.. ?”p.e.n.!”y….a.e.s.r.r.d.. htens. “Say it the way you wrote it.” My knees weaken. “I want you to touch me,” I whisper. “To kiss me. To take me the way I imagine at night. I want every forbidden thing…..”

What do you want? What did I want?

The image felt blurry, like a dream I wasn’t sure I could reach or achieve. Eloise set her pen down and leaned forward slightly. “Here’s what I want you to try for the next two weeks,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Every night, before you go to bed, I want you to write three things: one thing you did for yourself, one thing you felt, and one thing you’re proud of. It doesn’t matter what it is, even if it’s small.” I raised a brow. “And if I can’t think of anything?”

I was a trembling mess inside but there was no way I was going to show that, I would keep my sass till I die, I wouldn't die a scared cow, "Why don't you go ahead and start the fire?" I asked, that was a stupid thing to even say, but I wasn't even thinking at the moment so am not sure what was even coming out of my mouth,

Maybe a code or something like that, whatever it is my mom wrote for me. It has to be something meaningful but what could it be?