Problems Only Writers Understand

Problems only writers understand

Having very chaotic notes on your phone

Having secret files that you will NEVER let anyone ever see

WHAT THAT WORD THAT MEANS THAT THING????

Why cant I think of a name?

Writing 10k words in a day then never again

Falls and Walls

Thank you again to the wonderful @flashfictionfridayofficial​ for inspiring me again. Welcome to a use of the Humpty Dumpty rhyme for evil! Set in my current wip, in a spliced scene featuring four injuries (probably) and four reactions

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, 

Alex, Ben, and Cuckoo squint in the morning sunlight as they stare up at Maggie. Her boots knock against the wall as she swings her feet. She cocks her head to the side, smirk stealing across her face. If Alex, the tallest among them, reaches up, they would only brush the end of her boot with their fingertips.

“Maggie,” calls Alex, “what are you doing?”

“Getting a good view,” she drawls.

Ben strides around the wall, trying to find a way up. Loudly he says, almost to himself, “And how are you planning on getting down?”

“It’s quite nice up here,” Maggie says blithely. “I wasn’t exactly planning on that anytime soon.”

Snickering to themself, Cuckoo wanders over to their supplies. Out of clear sight of Maggie, they start rummaging around for a rope to help her down when she so chose to. Every good crimminal or acrobat has an route to safety.

A shriek sounds from the wall. Cuckoo, who had been preoccupied, whips up and turns to see Maggie gliding towards the ground. Alex’s hands are clapped around their face and Ben is rushing forwards to break her fall. Maggie herself has her knees bent preemptively to absorb the shock of the landing.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. 

The ground seems to shake, though this is only felt by Ben; a muffled thump rings out as they collapse from the drop. Air wooshes from his lungs, not from the fall, but from the pain. He looks up, blinking back tears. The others are gathered some distance from him. Cringing, he stretches out his legs. Pain shoots through them, not alleviated by the ground baked to burning by the noon sun. Ahead of him, the group slows, finally noticing his absence. Ben runs trained fingers along his legs, one after the other, meticulous and gentle. Finding a tender spot he lingers on it. Pushing, poking, and finally twisting, they let out a sharp cry. Immediately he bites down on the noise. Cuckoo, Alex, and Maggie don’t seem to notice. Cuckoo is breaking away from the pair, gesturing emphatically in one direction.

Steadying himself with deep breathing, Ben plants one hand, then the other. He pulls his legs under himself and pushes. He gets into a crouch, but the added body weight onto his injured legs makes spots swim before his eyes. They wobble and fall, eyes rolling and ears heating up. Muffled shouts ring out, barely breaking through the haze of pain.

Ben feels hands on him. Voices squabble in panic and frustration. He’s eased into a laying down position. A cool hand is pressed onto his forehead. Blinking tears away again, he sees Maggie’s concerned face peering down at him, the others beside her. 

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men 

“Alex! What were you thinking?” chides Ben. With Maggie’s help, he pushes Alex into a seated position. He barks at Cuckoo, sending her to retrieve some rocks. “We need to elevate their foot.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” Maggie mutters gently. She taps Alex’s uninjured ankle.

They wrinkle their nose, reaching out a hand to squeeze Maggie’s. Alex asks, “What else was I supposed to do?” 

“Look out for yourself! Not throw yourself into danger. Just,” Maggie pauses, sighing deeply. “We worry about you. I worry about you.”

“Duh, you goof,” Cuckoo says, returning laden with large flat rocks. “We care about you.”

Ben stacks the rocks beside their foot. As if handling a baby bird, he picks it up and balances it on the rock. His breath is warm against their ankle as he bends over it, inspecting it. “And if you think otherwise, you’re due for a knock up the head harder than your ankle was hit,” he says, gently stern. Scanning the ground, Ben picks up a thick, sturdy stick. Maggie comes up beside him at his gesture and holds it in place. From his pockets, Ben retrieves bandages and starts wrapping Alex’s ankle, splinting it.

Tears drip down Alex’s cheeks. A smile threatens to split their face in two. Cuckoo bumps their side, mouth turned up to mirror theirs. The afternoon sun turns the pair golden.

“Okay, everyone, back up,” says Ben, having finished his work. The others shuffle away, giving Alex space to stand. Bracing themself on Maggie’s offered hand, they begin to stand.

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

With a sweeping arm, Cuckoo pushed everyone away as they stumble to their feet.

“Just get away!” they scream, voice rasping.

“No-” Ben shouts back, trying to catch their arm. They shake him off. He falls into pace behind them.

Alex follows. They cry out, “Just wait!”

“Stop!” Maggie chimes in.

But Cuckoo’s feet catch the dirt in a way theirs couldn’t. They zip away from grasping fingers and desperate feet trying to slow them. One hand snakes around their ribs. Pain of many kinds cracks their chest as tears stream from their eyes. For a moment their steps falter, allowing Alex and Ben to begin to catch up. Maggie has already fallen behind, shorter legs and weaker stamina slowing her to a stop. Dust flies in their wake as Cuckoo finds their footing again. Even to Ben’s critical eye, their limp is barely noticeable. Alex’s foot catches on a rock and they crash to the ground. Skidding to a stop, Ben almost falls too. His heart aches, torn between loved ones. The distance between him and Cuckoo stretches as they arc up a hill, darting between shrubs. He can’t help those who don’t want to be helped. As he marches back to Alex’s prone form, Cuckoo disappears over the hill. Cuckoo winks into the sunset, taking parts of hearts with them.

Happy STS! Your story gets told from someone else's perspective. Whose is it?

I’m answering this a bit late, whoops!

I love this question! For A New Infection (which is largely abandoned save for the characters but is still one of my stories) I might tell if from the perspective of an infected for a feel of disconnect and mystery surrounding the main trios actions. I think it would be a different way of telling the story.

For my current wip (which I need to fix the title for) I would probably pick a character to have pov, potentially splitting the book into multiple parts and having everyone take a turn. It’s going back to what I typically do, but I’d love to see more inside their heads than I do now with the way I’m writing

@pagesofcursive

y’all know that trope where two people have been separated/apart and when they finally see each other they’re practically clinging to each other and you can practically feel the happiness and relief radiating off of them? that’s my crack

Characters are like piñatas. The real fun begins when you break them

Reminder to self:

Your writing seems boring and predictable because 

You wrote it

You’ve read it like eight million times.

A person who has never read it before does not have this problem.