Ok...Here we are again. Day 30. It's been, for me, rather a weird NaNo season. More details later tonight/tomorrow. But for now, my book's at 22,038 & I've got work to do.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
It's alive....Alive!!!
So this NaNo is going a bit differently. I stalled, HARD, right after starting. I hit 5k....then nada. Not that i wasn't writing, I was, just not on my book. The book was illusive, nebulous and I simply had no clue where to go with it. Now, after weeks of nothing, I'm writing on it again. I'm still not sure where it will end up, but I'm working on a scene at a time and that seems to help.
As an added bonus, I folded in a couple of short stories I've done recently (both are my work & were created during November, so they count) and between them and the writing I've done in the last couple of days I've gone from 5k to just past 18k.
50k's a lonnng way off yet, but seems nowhere near as unattainable as it did even yesterday morning.
As an added bonus, I folded in a couple of short stories I've done recently (both are my work & were created during November, so they count) and between them and the writing I've done in the last couple of days I've gone from 5k to just past 18k.
50k's a lonnng way off yet, but seems nowhere near as unattainable as it did even yesterday morning.
Friday, November 4, 2011
The Story So Far
We're half way through Week One (I know, right?! Where'd it all go?!?) & I'm a bit behind. I'm also not tremendously worried about being behind. NaNo is, after all, a marathon, not a sprint. But just what the heck is my problem? Well, it's like this, I quite stupidly started with no characters & no plot. Which is pretty thin, even for a total pantser like me. What i did have was a picture in my head, so I started with that, just describing what I saw & branching out from there. And, at least to my mind, it's some pretty interesting stuff. I've got my main character intro'ed, along with a couple of secondaries &, though he hasn't made a physical appearance just yet I've referenced heavily on another char.
Part of my problem, besides having to pull every little thing from the ether, is new worlds. Every job or title or gadget has to be named & described because I just made it up. And then once it's in the book & still fresh in my mind, it has to go in my Notes file so 15 or 20 pages down the road I remember what everything did/was called/etc. It's interesting making stuff up from scratch, but it takes a minute.
I'm also considering doing a few illustrations to go with; my main, her with her brother, at least one of the ships, a few of the locations & gadgets. We'll have to see what my imagination & skills can come up with.
TIll then, True Believers...
Part of my problem, besides having to pull every little thing from the ether, is new worlds. Every job or title or gadget has to be named & described because I just made it up. And then once it's in the book & still fresh in my mind, it has to go in my Notes file so 15 or 20 pages down the road I remember what everything did/was called/etc. It's interesting making stuff up from scratch, but it takes a minute.
I'm also considering doing a few illustrations to go with; my main, her with her brother, at least one of the ships, a few of the locations & gadgets. We'll have to see what my imagination & skills can come up with.
TIll then, True Believers...
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Night One
Ok, made it to 1291. I'll finish to at least 1667 after a proper, non sugar based snack & some nap time. My brain's toast.
G'night world.
G'night world.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Words
In *glances at the clock* 45 minutes I'm going to start my new book. I say 'new' because I write one, or at least part of one, every year & have since '03. I, and at last count a couple hundred thousand other people, subject ourselves to this peculiar insanity ever November by trying to write a whole novel before the month is out.
The official target is 50,000 words. And if you think that sounds crazy or impossible, know that you're not alone. Every year people from supporters to bloggers to even the participants themselves think NaNoWrriMo (The National Novel Writing Month, nanowrimo.org) is insurmountable. It certainly sounded that way to me when, all those years ago, my friend IMed me, frantic, a 9:30 Halloween night going "OMG! I just agreed to do this thing & you have to do it with me!!" I'd never heard of NaNo (which was in its third or forth year, I think, by that point) & had never written, even collectively, 50k words. I didn't think I'd ever be able to finish, and as it happened, I was right...that year. My first NaNo novel was about 13k & change. Nowhere near the mark, but more than I'd ever written on anything in my life & I was amazed I'd managed it. Since then I've had varying degrees of success each go 'round (I skipped '07 entirely, I just blanked so hard!). Thus far I have two wins to my name, but even on years I didn't I always meet someone new, I always learn something I hadn't known before & I always get, at least part of, a whole new book. And so long as those three things keep happening, I'll keep coming back every year, win or lose.
So why am I telling you all of this? Well, for one, I have *glances again at the clock* another half an our before Kickoff in my timezone & I've got a bit of nervous energy to burn. For another, I just like words. I think they're important. Linguistics, the very study of language, is a branch of philosophy. Words aren't just random sounds & shapes that happen together, they're the iconography of thought. We, as a species, are communicative. Storytelling's in our blood.
Language, it seems, has been getting the bum's rush of late. Soundbites, TXTspeak & life in under 140 characters is becoming the way of things. It doesn't have to be like that. Words have power, they're living, evolving things. Don't believe me? Every year a group of words is deemed archaic enough to be pulled from the dictionary, while new ones, and indeed new meanings to old ones, replace them. When was the last time someone said something that totally made your day? When was the last time a word hurt? They say sticks & stones may break bones, but words will never hurt you, I think they have that backwards. Physicality comes & goes, but the marks from words can last forever.
So, in honor of NaNoWriMo, choose your words with a little more care, write something longer than a tweet, fatten up your vocabulary. You can do it. You may not know it, but you're a born storyteller.
The official target is 50,000 words. And if you think that sounds crazy or impossible, know that you're not alone. Every year people from supporters to bloggers to even the participants themselves think NaNoWrriMo (The National Novel Writing Month, nanowrimo.org) is insurmountable. It certainly sounded that way to me when, all those years ago, my friend IMed me, frantic, a 9:30 Halloween night going "OMG! I just agreed to do this thing & you have to do it with me!!" I'd never heard of NaNo (which was in its third or forth year, I think, by that point) & had never written, even collectively, 50k words. I didn't think I'd ever be able to finish, and as it happened, I was right...that year. My first NaNo novel was about 13k & change. Nowhere near the mark, but more than I'd ever written on anything in my life & I was amazed I'd managed it. Since then I've had varying degrees of success each go 'round (I skipped '07 entirely, I just blanked so hard!). Thus far I have two wins to my name, but even on years I didn't I always meet someone new, I always learn something I hadn't known before & I always get, at least part of, a whole new book. And so long as those three things keep happening, I'll keep coming back every year, win or lose.
So why am I telling you all of this? Well, for one, I have *glances again at the clock* another half an our before Kickoff in my timezone & I've got a bit of nervous energy to burn. For another, I just like words. I think they're important. Linguistics, the very study of language, is a branch of philosophy. Words aren't just random sounds & shapes that happen together, they're the iconography of thought. We, as a species, are communicative. Storytelling's in our blood.
Language, it seems, has been getting the bum's rush of late. Soundbites, TXTspeak & life in under 140 characters is becoming the way of things. It doesn't have to be like that. Words have power, they're living, evolving things. Don't believe me? Every year a group of words is deemed archaic enough to be pulled from the dictionary, while new ones, and indeed new meanings to old ones, replace them. When was the last time someone said something that totally made your day? When was the last time a word hurt? They say sticks & stones may break bones, but words will never hurt you, I think they have that backwards. Physicality comes & goes, but the marks from words can last forever.
So, in honor of NaNoWriMo, choose your words with a little more care, write something longer than a tweet, fatten up your vocabulary. You can do it. You may not know it, but you're a born storyteller.
Another Year, Another Book
Is it just me, or did Kickoff Night come up out of nowhere this year?? Yes, logically I knew it was always there on the horizon. I tend to start mulling my next novel over just after my birthday in August every year, but for some reason this year's just went from a hazy shape in the distance to standing there staring me in the face in, seemingly, nothing flat.
So from my timezone Kickoff's just under three hours away. I have only the vaguest inkling of what my book's about this year, but that's not at all unusual for me. This year it's less about the words in my head than it is a picture that's been parked in my mind's eye for a couple of weeks now. I have this image of a girl looking out from the front of a boat & as the scene pulls back you see it's a flying ship & back further still that it's part of a fleet of flying ships cruising over a steampunkish cityscape. So, I'm going to start with the girl. She's clearest, then hopefully working on her a bit will help me find who this flying navy is & where they're going. Wish me luck. Till then, I have a couple hours left (and am feeling surprisingly calm considering I have a basically blank slate, lol) & there's a few things I have left to do before I start.
See ya after ;)
So from my timezone Kickoff's just under three hours away. I have only the vaguest inkling of what my book's about this year, but that's not at all unusual for me. This year it's less about the words in my head than it is a picture that's been parked in my mind's eye for a couple of weeks now. I have this image of a girl looking out from the front of a boat & as the scene pulls back you see it's a flying ship & back further still that it's part of a fleet of flying ships cruising over a steampunkish cityscape. So, I'm going to start with the girl. She's clearest, then hopefully working on her a bit will help me find who this flying navy is & where they're going. Wish me luck. Till then, I have a couple hours left (and am feeling surprisingly calm considering I have a basically blank slate, lol) & there's a few things I have left to do before I start.
See ya after ;)
Friday, October 28, 2011
Looking Glass
So, I said I'd been writing 'real' things lately, here goes. I posted this elsewhere & have gotten a number of really positive responses off it. I hope it'll speak to somebody here as well.
“I can’t” she pleaded, shaking her head frantically. “Please.”
She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was going to stick on this one. Her stomach knotted as she looked again at the huge mirror propped up against the wall opposite the bed. When she’d come to see him tonight, he’d been all smiles, greeting her at the door with a warm hug & a soft, deep kiss. She loved being wrapped up in his arms like that, the physicality of his presence, his scent & warmth like nothing could ever get to her.
“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled down at her, just slightly. There wasn’t much difference in their height, but to her he always seemed bigger. His presence seemed to extend beyond his body, sometimes protective, sometimes looming.
“A surprise?” They gave each other little gifts from time to time, but not all that often. She didn’t ask him for gifts & so to her meant all the more when he thought of her. “What is it?”
“Well,” he gave her that fondly amused smile he used whenever he thought she was being cute. “If I told you,” he took her hand & started walking through to the bedroom, “it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it?” She’d smiled, her mind wondering what he had up his sleeve. They’d been talking about investing in some new toys & she wondered what he’d gotten when she saw it.
The mirror.
It was as tall as she was & half that wide. A flat plane of shiny, crystal clear glass framed in flat, coffee brown wood as wide as her palm.
She shook her head. “No.”
Without raising his voice, seeming at all angry, disappointed or even surprised he simply said “yes.”
“I can’t” she pleaded, shaking her head frantically. “Please.” He took the bag from her shoulder & slid off her jacket to leave them on the chair by the door. Stepping over, he locked the door & turned, leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. He’d decided. No more running away, not this time.
“You can do this.” She shook her head again. Hair tumbled around her pale face, her eyes filling with tears that hung, welling & glistening along her lashes. “Little one…” he crossed the room, tipping her chin up to face him. “Do you trust me?”
She nodded, a little skitter of tears played down her cheek. “You know I do.” He smiled again at this & kissed her forehead.
“Alright. Do you trust that I always have your best interest at heart & wouldn’t put you through something if I didn’t think you were strong enough to take it?”
She nodded again & he all but purred, “good girl.” The effect was immediate. Just like she always did at the sound of those cherished words, she sighed, her eyes drifting closed for breath as the deep feeling of being loved washed over. He could see her relax. “Now,” he walked her over until they were both standing in front of the mirror. He stood behind her & pointed.
“Tell me what you see.” He looked at their reflection in the glass, scowled & gave her a quick whack on the behind. “This only works if you open your eyes, you silly bitch.” The word may have been harsh, but the way he used it was as a fond exasperation. She opened her eyes.
“So. What do you see?” There wasn’t any judgment, any expectation, just a curiosity. He’d always told her she was gorgeous, but she never believed him. He knew from the second he met her that she had issues with her body. Aside from the idea that nearly all women did in some manner, it was the way she carried herself, like she was trying to disappear. It’d taken a fair bit of time to build the kind of trust that allowed her to be naked with him, but he’d been patient. She’d been worth it. Apart from anything else, he thought she was amazing even if she’d had three heads & scales. She was clever, had a wicked sense of humor & possessed quite possibly the kindest heart he’d ever known. To him, she was beautiful from that alone, but he also loved her body & it killed him that she couldn’t.
“A woman about ready to unlock that door & walk out till you get rid of that” she pouted without enough vehemence to turn word into deed.
Twisting a section of hair in his hands he made certain she wouldn’t go far. “No you don’t, girl. Tell me what you see.”
She heaved a sigh. “Ok. Fine. I see me. Are we done?” He caught her reflected gaze and shook his head. She sighed again, not as haughty this time, more resigned. “I see me. Standing there. Looking just….all…blah!” Her hands waved in an empty gesture to emphasize the point.
“Take off your clothes”. He didn’t raise his voice, but there was no mistaking it as anything other than an order. She lingered a moment trying to figure a way around this, but he gave a tug at her hair. She offered up just the slightest hiss of pain & the reflection of her eyes started daggers at his, but she started to undress.
“I don’t see the point in all this” she grumbled.
“That’s fine. I do. And you will, now” he punctuated this last with another tug, “off.” She whimpered ever so slightly & for half a moment his resolve started to weaken. They could just call it all off. He had her here, fistful of her long hair tangled in his hand & that whimper…that whimper told him all he needed to know. She’d felt that jolt of pain gone to need, he could see it in her eyes as she slipped off her clothes. He drew a few breaths to clear his mind. He could always have her whenever he liked & indeed he would, but first, they had some things to attend to.
“There” she said once her outfit was pooled around her feet. “Happy?” She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t look at the mirror.
Was he happy? His sweet girl was naked before him what was there to not be happy about? She may be staring through the clock radio on the table, but he looked at her. She was magnificent. He knew, obviously, what he issues were. They were hardly a mystery & undressed they were impossible to miss. He got, logically, why her body bothered her. She didn’t look like she was “supposed” to. He was never bothered by that, he didn’t want a centerfold, he wanted a real woman & here she stood. He wouldn’t have changed her for a moment, even if he’d had the power to do so because how she looked had shaped how she saw the world & the person she’d become. But, while he knew generally what she found fault with, he didn’t know specifically what it was she saw when she looked in the mirror.
He took her chin in his fingers & turned her head back. Leaning in close he asked “what do you see?” She sniffled. Her gaze was set firmly on the floor and she took in a shaky breath as the tears started. He pulled the long hair back in soft caresses, till the room light shone across her bare skin. He knew that about her too, the hair. It was long, down past her waist, perfumed & this mix of dark blonde that shone with a bit of red in the right light. It was also her cloak, her security blanket, her shield against being seen by anyone. “Well?”
She looked up, gaze creeping up slowly from her feet till at last she looked herself in the eyes. She gave up a tiny, choked sob & shook her head vehemently. Behind her, he nodded & pulled the loose strands back over her shoulders. She sucked in a shuddering breath & finally answered “a mutant without the benefit of cool superpowers?”
He scowled. “Be nice, that’s my girl you’re talking about.” She trembled slightly as the tears came in earnest.
“Tell me what you see.”
“You KNOW what I see!” she railed.
“No,” he assured. “I really don’t. I know why you don’t like yourself, but that’s not the same as what it is you see when you look,” he pointed to the mirror, “at that amazing creature there.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Say what?”
“That I’m amazing. I’m not!” she sobbed, Her pale face had gone pink & hot, fat tears streamed down her cheeks. How could he make her do this?! How could he say he loves her then torture her like this?! She’d take ropes or pain or blood, anything but this. “I’m not amazing, I’m not beautiful, I’m not gorgeous, I’m…”
“What?” He could feel her, read her signs. She was teetering on the cusp of something big.
“UGLY!” she shouted. All thought of her bashfulness or shame forgotten at as she railed at him, at herself, at the cruel whims of fate that left her locked in this…this thing she had to walk around in. “How could you?!” she cried, wracking breaths shaking her pale form. “How can you stand there with a straight face & call -me- beautiful?! How can you look at…at THAT” she waved towards her reflection “and say it’s anything like pretty. It’s not! I’m not!!”
Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close as he murmured soothing words into her hair until the wracking sobs gave way to little sniffles again. Looking at their reflection together in that moment, all he could do was sigh with such a deep sadness for all the things that had made her hate herself so much. She didn’t take compliments well, but he gave them anyway. He’d hoped if he reassured he how much he adored her, luscious outsides right down to her deliciously wicked mind, that she’d begin to understand, to accept. And it did help, somewhat. But she still got that look when he told he how much he loved her looks, that mixture of fear, expectation of mockery & the thought she was half a breath away from calling him out for being a liar. It broke his heart every single time.
“Alright,” he began, soft trying a slight change of course. “Let’s try this, keep your eyes closed.” This was met by the tiniest whimper of gratitude. “I want you to think of something for me for a minute. Think about the museum.” He knew she loved the museum. Whenever they went she’d drag him excitedly through it pointing out this or that & marveling over the other. She was all wide eyes & big smiles whenever they’d go & that was just how he liked to see her, content, happy & in the moment.”
“The museum?” she asked. She couldn’t begin to guess what that had to do with anything. Yes, they’d gone to a Primitive Art exhibit last month, but was this really the time?
“The museum” he replied, clearly certain. “Close your eyes & tell me about the exhibit we saw last time.”
“The ancient art thing?”
“Indeed. Tell me about the pieces.”
“What? I don’t understand, what-” he cut her off.
“Be good & do what I tell you, hm?” he requested, leaving a small kiss atop her head. “What was the art about?”
She was puzzled, but considered the question. “Different things really. Gods, kings, animals…” she trailed off. It was a big subject to cover after all. Different people had covered a whole array of subjects & styles from a wide variety of materials & skill levels.
“And women?” he prompted.
“Well, yes. I suppose so. Goddesses mostly.”
He murmured “Mmhmm…” & kissed her shoulder. “Go on.”
“Well….w-what about them?”
“You tell me? What did you like about them?” He already knew the answer of course. They’d lingered a fair while in front of a collection of goddess statues & he’d seen the look on her face, but he wanted to find out if she understood why she was so drawn to them.
“They’re…” she heaved a sigh. “This is silly. They’re just old statues.”
“It’s not silly. These are just old statues now, but once they were the ideal of physical womanhood & you know this. You stood rhapsodizing in front of that display case for how long?” He gave a little chuckle at the memory & kissed the top of her head. “So, what did you like?”
“I…” she stopped, picturing in her mind & giving the question serious consideration for a moment before answering. “Well, it depends on where they come from.”
“Fair enough. Go on.”
“Well, some were all yoni & Shakti, just all about the feminine & divine. They were open &…& beckoning. Some were maternal, all ripe & full & giving. Some were powerful.”
She could feel him nod behind her. “Good. What made them powerful?”
“They were…” she searched for the right word to describe these amazing little women in stone & clay & metals. “Unabashed, I guess.”
“Yes they were” he purred behind her. Now they were getting down to it.
“They didn’t hide anything about themselves, I guess. They were just…all curves & arcs & inviting bits.”
This one made him laugh & he gave her a little hug. “Indeed they were. Now, open your eyes.” She did as she was told, slowly, almost reluctantly. She’d calmed down during their somewhat unorthodox interview & she wasn’t keen on confronting the sight before her again. But she found, when she did look, that her perspective had altered, even if only a little. “Does that description sound like anyone we know?” he teased.
She stared into the glass, the echo of goddesses burning fresh in her mind & was amazed to discover similarities to the woman staring back at her. “Me?”
“Of course you, silly girl. Look” he pointed. “Now I’ll grant you,” he laughed, “you may not be gaping & totem like, but the basics are all there.” He ran a hand along each generous curve of inviting, pale flesh as he spoke. “Those luscious hips, the soft tummy, the full breasts…” he landed a sound whack across her backside, “that wonderful, soft ass. Face it, little one. You’re what those people were sculpting about.”
She couldn’t see it as clearly as he did, but she could see it, if only just a little. She supposed, if she were really honest with herself, that lush curves she’d always so loathed as being too this or not enough that did look like a warm, round fertility goddess.
“All those long years of history, sweet girl, you were what the ideal was. And even now,” because he knew she’d go there if given the chance, “in a world that holds up girls that’re just bones & hair & calls them beautiful, it’s you, this body, this shape that people go to see in museums & you’re what they want to snuggle up with in bed.”
“You may not be model perfect, but I don’t want that, I want you. Because,” he laughed, “I’m sorry if I sound a little Hallmark here,” she giggled at that, “you’re perfect to me. Ok? I need you to understand that, girl. I don’t put up with you until something better comes along. You are the main event. And I know you don’t always like your body, but I love it enough for both of us on those day, ok?”
She nodded & despite her initial response did seem calmer, more at peace. “I try to remember, I really do.”
“I know you do, love. But where you see too much weight, I see a girl that lets me feed her & isn’t afraid to eat & laugh & fuck! You may think you’re too heavy when you look in that mirror, but all I see is a warm, soft, gorgeous body I can’t keep my hands off of. All the pieces of your life came together to make the woman in the mirror, even the bad bits. I know you’re not happy somedays, but just remember, I wouldn’t want you any other way because I love you. Right here, who & how you are. Not who you might be. Besides,” he turned her to face him & placed a long, deep kiss on those sweet lips. “That amazing body can do oh so many things I love. C’mon…” he took her hand & settled her to kneel in front of the mirror so she could watch before dragging a chair over to sit in front of her. His desire for her was evident even before the belt was loosened from his pants.
“Let me show you the other reasons I love that body.”
“I can’t” she pleaded, shaking her head frantically. “Please.”
She could tell from the look in his eyes that he was going to stick on this one. Her stomach knotted as she looked again at the huge mirror propped up against the wall opposite the bed. When she’d come to see him tonight, he’d been all smiles, greeting her at the door with a warm hug & a soft, deep kiss. She loved being wrapped up in his arms like that, the physicality of his presence, his scent & warmth like nothing could ever get to her.
“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled down at her, just slightly. There wasn’t much difference in their height, but to her he always seemed bigger. His presence seemed to extend beyond his body, sometimes protective, sometimes looming.
“A surprise?” They gave each other little gifts from time to time, but not all that often. She didn’t ask him for gifts & so to her meant all the more when he thought of her. “What is it?”
“Well,” he gave her that fondly amused smile he used whenever he thought she was being cute. “If I told you,” he took her hand & started walking through to the bedroom, “it wouldn’t be a surprise now would it?” She’d smiled, her mind wondering what he had up his sleeve. They’d been talking about investing in some new toys & she wondered what he’d gotten when she saw it.
The mirror.
It was as tall as she was & half that wide. A flat plane of shiny, crystal clear glass framed in flat, coffee brown wood as wide as her palm.
She shook her head. “No.”
Without raising his voice, seeming at all angry, disappointed or even surprised he simply said “yes.”
“I can’t” she pleaded, shaking her head frantically. “Please.” He took the bag from her shoulder & slid off her jacket to leave them on the chair by the door. Stepping over, he locked the door & turned, leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. He’d decided. No more running away, not this time.
“You can do this.” She shook her head again. Hair tumbled around her pale face, her eyes filling with tears that hung, welling & glistening along her lashes. “Little one…” he crossed the room, tipping her chin up to face him. “Do you trust me?”
She nodded, a little skitter of tears played down her cheek. “You know I do.” He smiled again at this & kissed her forehead.
“Alright. Do you trust that I always have your best interest at heart & wouldn’t put you through something if I didn’t think you were strong enough to take it?”
She nodded again & he all but purred, “good girl.” The effect was immediate. Just like she always did at the sound of those cherished words, she sighed, her eyes drifting closed for breath as the deep feeling of being loved washed over. He could see her relax. “Now,” he walked her over until they were both standing in front of the mirror. He stood behind her & pointed.
“Tell me what you see.” He looked at their reflection in the glass, scowled & gave her a quick whack on the behind. “This only works if you open your eyes, you silly bitch.” The word may have been harsh, but the way he used it was as a fond exasperation. She opened her eyes.
“So. What do you see?” There wasn’t any judgment, any expectation, just a curiosity. He’d always told her she was gorgeous, but she never believed him. He knew from the second he met her that she had issues with her body. Aside from the idea that nearly all women did in some manner, it was the way she carried herself, like she was trying to disappear. It’d taken a fair bit of time to build the kind of trust that allowed her to be naked with him, but he’d been patient. She’d been worth it. Apart from anything else, he thought she was amazing even if she’d had three heads & scales. She was clever, had a wicked sense of humor & possessed quite possibly the kindest heart he’d ever known. To him, she was beautiful from that alone, but he also loved her body & it killed him that she couldn’t.
“A woman about ready to unlock that door & walk out till you get rid of that” she pouted without enough vehemence to turn word into deed.
Twisting a section of hair in his hands he made certain she wouldn’t go far. “No you don’t, girl. Tell me what you see.”
She heaved a sigh. “Ok. Fine. I see me. Are we done?” He caught her reflected gaze and shook his head. She sighed again, not as haughty this time, more resigned. “I see me. Standing there. Looking just….all…blah!” Her hands waved in an empty gesture to emphasize the point.
“Take off your clothes”. He didn’t raise his voice, but there was no mistaking it as anything other than an order. She lingered a moment trying to figure a way around this, but he gave a tug at her hair. She offered up just the slightest hiss of pain & the reflection of her eyes started daggers at his, but she started to undress.
“I don’t see the point in all this” she grumbled.
“That’s fine. I do. And you will, now” he punctuated this last with another tug, “off.” She whimpered ever so slightly & for half a moment his resolve started to weaken. They could just call it all off. He had her here, fistful of her long hair tangled in his hand & that whimper…that whimper told him all he needed to know. She’d felt that jolt of pain gone to need, he could see it in her eyes as she slipped off her clothes. He drew a few breaths to clear his mind. He could always have her whenever he liked & indeed he would, but first, they had some things to attend to.
“There” she said once her outfit was pooled around her feet. “Happy?” She wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t look at the mirror.
Was he happy? His sweet girl was naked before him what was there to not be happy about? She may be staring through the clock radio on the table, but he looked at her. She was magnificent. He knew, obviously, what he issues were. They were hardly a mystery & undressed they were impossible to miss. He got, logically, why her body bothered her. She didn’t look like she was “supposed” to. He was never bothered by that, he didn’t want a centerfold, he wanted a real woman & here she stood. He wouldn’t have changed her for a moment, even if he’d had the power to do so because how she looked had shaped how she saw the world & the person she’d become. But, while he knew generally what she found fault with, he didn’t know specifically what it was she saw when she looked in the mirror.
He took her chin in his fingers & turned her head back. Leaning in close he asked “what do you see?” She sniffled. Her gaze was set firmly on the floor and she took in a shaky breath as the tears started. He pulled the long hair back in soft caresses, till the room light shone across her bare skin. He knew that about her too, the hair. It was long, down past her waist, perfumed & this mix of dark blonde that shone with a bit of red in the right light. It was also her cloak, her security blanket, her shield against being seen by anyone. “Well?”
She looked up, gaze creeping up slowly from her feet till at last she looked herself in the eyes. She gave up a tiny, choked sob & shook her head vehemently. Behind her, he nodded & pulled the loose strands back over her shoulders. She sucked in a shuddering breath & finally answered “a mutant without the benefit of cool superpowers?”
He scowled. “Be nice, that’s my girl you’re talking about.” She trembled slightly as the tears came in earnest.
“Tell me what you see.”
“You KNOW what I see!” she railed.
“No,” he assured. “I really don’t. I know why you don’t like yourself, but that’s not the same as what it is you see when you look,” he pointed to the mirror, “at that amazing creature there.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Say what?”
“That I’m amazing. I’m not!” she sobbed, Her pale face had gone pink & hot, fat tears streamed down her cheeks. How could he make her do this?! How could he say he loves her then torture her like this?! She’d take ropes or pain or blood, anything but this. “I’m not amazing, I’m not beautiful, I’m not gorgeous, I’m…”
“What?” He could feel her, read her signs. She was teetering on the cusp of something big.
“UGLY!” she shouted. All thought of her bashfulness or shame forgotten at as she railed at him, at herself, at the cruel whims of fate that left her locked in this…this thing she had to walk around in. “How could you?!” she cried, wracking breaths shaking her pale form. “How can you stand there with a straight face & call -me- beautiful?! How can you look at…at THAT” she waved towards her reflection “and say it’s anything like pretty. It’s not! I’m not!!”
Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close as he murmured soothing words into her hair until the wracking sobs gave way to little sniffles again. Looking at their reflection together in that moment, all he could do was sigh with such a deep sadness for all the things that had made her hate herself so much. She didn’t take compliments well, but he gave them anyway. He’d hoped if he reassured he how much he adored her, luscious outsides right down to her deliciously wicked mind, that she’d begin to understand, to accept. And it did help, somewhat. But she still got that look when he told he how much he loved her looks, that mixture of fear, expectation of mockery & the thought she was half a breath away from calling him out for being a liar. It broke his heart every single time.
“Alright,” he began, soft trying a slight change of course. “Let’s try this, keep your eyes closed.” This was met by the tiniest whimper of gratitude. “I want you to think of something for me for a minute. Think about the museum.” He knew she loved the museum. Whenever they went she’d drag him excitedly through it pointing out this or that & marveling over the other. She was all wide eyes & big smiles whenever they’d go & that was just how he liked to see her, content, happy & in the moment.”
“The museum?” she asked. She couldn’t begin to guess what that had to do with anything. Yes, they’d gone to a Primitive Art exhibit last month, but was this really the time?
“The museum” he replied, clearly certain. “Close your eyes & tell me about the exhibit we saw last time.”
“The ancient art thing?”
“Indeed. Tell me about the pieces.”
“What? I don’t understand, what-” he cut her off.
“Be good & do what I tell you, hm?” he requested, leaving a small kiss atop her head. “What was the art about?”
She was puzzled, but considered the question. “Different things really. Gods, kings, animals…” she trailed off. It was a big subject to cover after all. Different people had covered a whole array of subjects & styles from a wide variety of materials & skill levels.
“And women?” he prompted.
“Well, yes. I suppose so. Goddesses mostly.”
He murmured “Mmhmm…” & kissed her shoulder. “Go on.”
“Well….w-what about them?”
“You tell me? What did you like about them?” He already knew the answer of course. They’d lingered a fair while in front of a collection of goddess statues & he’d seen the look on her face, but he wanted to find out if she understood why she was so drawn to them.
“They’re…” she heaved a sigh. “This is silly. They’re just old statues.”
“It’s not silly. These are just old statues now, but once they were the ideal of physical womanhood & you know this. You stood rhapsodizing in front of that display case for how long?” He gave a little chuckle at the memory & kissed the top of her head. “So, what did you like?”
“I…” she stopped, picturing in her mind & giving the question serious consideration for a moment before answering. “Well, it depends on where they come from.”
“Fair enough. Go on.”
“Well, some were all yoni & Shakti, just all about the feminine & divine. They were open &…& beckoning. Some were maternal, all ripe & full & giving. Some were powerful.”
She could feel him nod behind her. “Good. What made them powerful?”
“They were…” she searched for the right word to describe these amazing little women in stone & clay & metals. “Unabashed, I guess.”
“Yes they were” he purred behind her. Now they were getting down to it.
“They didn’t hide anything about themselves, I guess. They were just…all curves & arcs & inviting bits.”
This one made him laugh & he gave her a little hug. “Indeed they were. Now, open your eyes.” She did as she was told, slowly, almost reluctantly. She’d calmed down during their somewhat unorthodox interview & she wasn’t keen on confronting the sight before her again. But she found, when she did look, that her perspective had altered, even if only a little. “Does that description sound like anyone we know?” he teased.
She stared into the glass, the echo of goddesses burning fresh in her mind & was amazed to discover similarities to the woman staring back at her. “Me?”
“Of course you, silly girl. Look” he pointed. “Now I’ll grant you,” he laughed, “you may not be gaping & totem like, but the basics are all there.” He ran a hand along each generous curve of inviting, pale flesh as he spoke. “Those luscious hips, the soft tummy, the full breasts…” he landed a sound whack across her backside, “that wonderful, soft ass. Face it, little one. You’re what those people were sculpting about.”
She couldn’t see it as clearly as he did, but she could see it, if only just a little. She supposed, if she were really honest with herself, that lush curves she’d always so loathed as being too this or not enough that did look like a warm, round fertility goddess.
“All those long years of history, sweet girl, you were what the ideal was. And even now,” because he knew she’d go there if given the chance, “in a world that holds up girls that’re just bones & hair & calls them beautiful, it’s you, this body, this shape that people go to see in museums & you’re what they want to snuggle up with in bed.”
“You may not be model perfect, but I don’t want that, I want you. Because,” he laughed, “I’m sorry if I sound a little Hallmark here,” she giggled at that, “you’re perfect to me. Ok? I need you to understand that, girl. I don’t put up with you until something better comes along. You are the main event. And I know you don’t always like your body, but I love it enough for both of us on those day, ok?”
She nodded & despite her initial response did seem calmer, more at peace. “I try to remember, I really do.”
“I know you do, love. But where you see too much weight, I see a girl that lets me feed her & isn’t afraid to eat & laugh & fuck! You may think you’re too heavy when you look in that mirror, but all I see is a warm, soft, gorgeous body I can’t keep my hands off of. All the pieces of your life came together to make the woman in the mirror, even the bad bits. I know you’re not happy somedays, but just remember, I wouldn’t want you any other way because I love you. Right here, who & how you are. Not who you might be. Besides,” he turned her to face him & placed a long, deep kiss on those sweet lips. “That amazing body can do oh so many things I love. C’mon…” he took her hand & settled her to kneel in front of the mirror so she could watch before dragging a chair over to sit in front of her. His desire for her was evident even before the belt was loosened from his pants.
“Let me show you the other reasons I love that body.”
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