Writing Actions Novels & Stories

Curiosity possessed me as my quivering hand inched forward to pull the drawer open and reveal my dreaded nightmares. The creamy envelope felt so innocent in my hands and I wondered, how could something so pure as white held such threatening words? As soon as I opened the envelope, the base of it somehow gave away and the blood-red rose petals fell to my feet. My eyes, on the other hand, were stuck on the midnight black piece of paper laying amidst them. I dropped to my feet, and so did a tear down my cheeks. There on the black paper was written some words in white cursive ink that horrified me to the core.

With a deep breath, she composed a message to her editor, the words on the screen a reflection of her mounting worries and internal conflict: "Hi there, it's Bella. I hope you're doing well. I wanted to reach out because I've been thinking about increasing my writing work. I know I haven't published much lately, but with my current circumstances, I could really use some extra income. Is there any way to take on more assignments or increase my pay rate? I'd be more than willing to take on additional work or explore new topics. Please let me know if there's anything I can do. Thank you."

Work. The punctuation between every word. Like he was typing through gritted teeth. He was being deliberately difficult and we both knew it, and he knew that I knew it, and somehow that made it worse. My thumbs were moving before I could stop them. I fucking work in your company, Niklaus Specter, and guess what, I am at the vacation-adjacent workshop you just showed up to, and you are standing outside the lobby sending me this text right now, and if you would like to come to me you need only turn around…

Finishing the job. ****😑****

Mia's hands around my neck. I typed: I have a plan. You're probably going to be angry. Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Come tomorrow. 10 AM. Don't be late. I set the phone down. My wolf was humming. I picked up the pen and started writing.

Another card. “Let’s talk about discipline. Many aspiring writers struggle with consistency. How do you stay committed to your craft?” I smiled faintly. “Writing is work,” I said. “Not inspiration. Not magic. Work.” She raised a brow, amused. “I show up even when I don’t feel like it. Some days the writing is terrible. Some days it flows. But I show up anyway.” “Do you ever face writer’s block?” “Yes,” I said honestly. “When that happens, I stop forcing words. I step away. I walk. I read. I listen to music. Then I return.”

Returning home from work, Ava found herself with a jumble of emotions and an acute awareness of Carver's mysterious behavior. She knew she needed to distract herself, and her leftover assignments from her first day at work seemed like the perfect opportunity. Despite the exhaustion settling in her bones, she decided to stay awake and delve into her work. Her first assignment was writing copy for a 360 virtual tour of a high-rise apartment model from one of Carver's new projects. She set up her workspace, her mind already beginning to weave the words together.

His presence alone was enough to make anyone lose their composure, and I hated how easily he affected me. I looked back at the office I had just left and shook my head slowly. “Amara, you can do this you’re strong. I believe in you,” I told myself inwardly, trying to gather the confidence I almost lost in front of him. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders and walked back to my desk, The moment I sat down, I forced myself to focus. Work first. Everything else later. I started writing the brief on how the voice activating system would be developed, carefully putting down every detail—the structure, the process, the requirements. My pen moved quickly as my thoughts flowed.

Running always had a way of clearing my mind, allowing me to focus on what was important. I turn to my computer, ready to start working on the articulation intelligence and security project that had been consuming my thoughts for the past few days. The cursor blinks at me, waiting for me to start typing. I take a deep breath and start to write, the words flowing easily from my fingertips.