Behind Closed Doors – Rise Against

Time out, let’s stop and think this through,
We’ve all got better things to do,
A talk in circles run in place,
Answers inches from our face.”

– Behind Closed Doors, Rise Against

If I had to pick, my favorite thing about writing is this:

I love putting characters in situations they don’t understand. Whether it’s a visit from someone that comes from another dimension (Grazing the Sky) or a strange power that breaks the laws of Alchemy (Leave A Scar), there’s something just so fun about watching characters try and wrap their head around something they don’t quite have full understanding of.

For example, take this scene from my FMA fic, Leave A Scar:


The hotel room was quiet, the hands of a clock filling the silence.

I remained reading, sitting on the couch with both legs tucked underneath myself. Uncomfortable, especially for a long period of time, but the pain building from the position made me focus a little harder. Balancing the selfishness with the weak attempt at help I was offering both of them. 

At the opposite side, Ed lounging on the couch, one leg hanging off the seat’s edge, the other stretched out. His socked foot was relatively close to the leg nearest to him, my right one. I felt nervous about this; did he want us to touch? No probably not. Not with Al so close, but why would he be lounging like this if he didn’t want us to be close? Just enough to act casual? Like there was nothing between us? Was there anything between us? 

Al suddenly spoke, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I clenched the book in my hands a little harder, feeling Ed’s stare go to me. Around us, Al’s voice rang out. 

“I… I just felt something?”

Ed sat up. “What?! What’re you talking about, you felt something?”

Al stared down at the paper on the table. “I… I don’t know. I just felt… An emotion, I think.”

I searched his face, his paper. “What… What were you doing, when you felt it?”

“I… I was just writing a letter to May,” he responded. He bowed his head a little, becoming embarrassed. The hand holding the pencil tightened a little bit. “I was just telling her how much I love her.”

Ed was already trying to figure this out. He picked his other foot off from the floor, pulling both legs in to a loose sitting position, fanning out slightly. Face concentrated, searching the line in between the cushions like the answers were in between the darkness in the crack. 

“You remember that idea I had,” he began quietly, “about your body getting human experiences?”

Al nodded, hesitant. “Y-yeah.”

“Maybe… That one was powerful enough for you to feel it.”

Al looked back down to his paper. “M… Maybe… Why would it only work now, though? We’ve been writing that for months now.”

Ed looked away, down to the floor, away from me. Still concentrated. Still trying to figure this out. 

“I’m not sure, Al,” he replied. “Whatever it is, we should keep our eye on it.”


So keep running around circles, my lovelies. You’ll bump into something eventually πŸ˜‰

π”½π•’π•žπ• π•¦π•€ 𝕃𝕒𝕀π•₯ π•Žπ• π•£π••π•€ – 𝕄π•ͺ β„‚π•™π•–π•žπ•šπ•”π•’π• β„π• π•žπ•’π•Ÿπ•”π•–

For the past few days, I’ve been in a creative slump. My dream has always been to be a bestselling author. I wanted books on the shelves. I wanted a massive line of people, waiting for my autograph. I wanted to be known. 

But I really thought about it and did some research and realized all that stems from ego. It won’t make me a better writer. 

It wouldn’t even validate the quality of my writing. 

I have money coming in, so it’s not like I necessarily need the income. Sure, six or seven figures would be great, but it’s not desperately needed. 

To quote a song… 

“I am not afraid to keep on living. I am not afraid to walk this world alone.” 

So, I’m going to keep on writing because, to quote a famous author, “when I write, I don’t feel like I should be doing anything else.” I just feel the characters and I feel the words that connect them to each other. I feel that symmetry, that flow, and it’s like watching a river trickle over rocks. There’s a chaotic, peaceful pattern to it all. 

And that’s worth writing about. 

π’ͺ𝒸𝑒𝒢𝓃 πΈπ“Žπ‘’π“ˆ, 𝐡𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑒 πΈπ’Ύπ“π’Ύπ“ˆπ’½

Few songs hook you on your first listen. My family just got a super cool, super new speaker (courtesy of our cell phone provider) and something about this song just stuck into my brain, at that moment, at the point in time. I didn’t have to pick what song would test out the speaker. It found me.

The first few seconds passed, releasing an ambiance that floated into our kitchen.

“Can’t stop staring
At those oceans eyes

Your ocean eyes.”

This song bleeds love. It bleeds beauty. It bleeds harmony.

Just the other day, I was researching exactly how Billie Eilish got popular. She seemed to rise up from out of nowhere, condemning an army of loyal fans. Her start came from one song on Soundcloud; something I know will be on repeat in the coming weeks.

So go on, Billie. Keep on capturing us, because you already have my ears at the first listen.