Hello!

At the time of you reading this, I’m over visiting my stunning boyfriend in the UK. I can promise that we’re doing very gay things like holding hands and seeing museums. Scandalous, I know.

Last month I gave myself the task of writing 5k words in any WIP of my choice. For reasons I’ll get into, I blew that goal out if the water.

I’ve gotten 39k words (9 chapters) in the second draft of my vampire/werewolf T4T horromance. I did the whole first draft in fall, and hated it, so here I am doing it again. So far this is shaping up to be one of my longer WIPs, and I’m a little intimidated.

‘The Strings of Willis Manor’ is in the trusted hands of some lovely beta readers. I honestly don’t know how I would be able to continue without them, thank you! Haven’t gotten much feedback yet other than “This is good, but I have some notes” which I’m genuinely excited to see.

Several ideas for new stories have poked their head in, but I’ve kept them to various notebooks. Currently, I love the stories I’m working on, and I want to focus on them.

Next month, I’m gonna give myself the same goal of writing 5k words. Sounds like a cop-out, I know, but as spring grows closer, I’ve gotta start focusing on real-life stuff.

Speaking of…

At the very end of February, I was offered a daily position on the second season of a show which I had worked the first season of.

At the end of March, I’m no longer dailying with them. There’s a few reasons why — none of which my NDA allows me to disclose — but just know that it was for the best that I’m not with them anymore.

Right now, I’m in the UK! I was here around this time last year, for my lovely boyfriend’s birthday, and I’m so excited to be back. This has been a trip months in the making.

No news as of right now regarding publishing, but I have high hopes. Maybe I’ve just got a new pep in my step, but I feel strongly that “From the Sea Fret” will end up in the right hands.

Several months ago, I wrote up a small piece because I was in my feels. I didn’t remember it until a few days ago, and realized I haven’t shared it with anyone!

It’s called “The Body Inside”

TW: body horror

I'm a body inside a body. A mascot of the person I'm told I am.

Every day, I get up and adjust the suit of meat that got crumpled in the night. Taking a straightener to the flesh, I push and pull until everything sits just so.

It's weighing. A layer of lead that makes me stoop, bowing my head and forcing me to be humble. The thick coffin of skin that pulls all of me down until I'm kneeling at its foot as though in worship.

With my eyes behind my eyes, I look out through the layers to watch everyone else. If they get too close, they'll see the second pair of mine behind the dead ones, so I always stay a step back.

I've always had the suit. It was gifted to me, along with the smiles of loved ones that stretched too far. Their eyes silently begging me to accept and be grateful. I didn't make a fuss when they stitched me inside.

Except the collar of the suit is too tight. It presses against my throat, keeping me just short of breath. I can't breathe deep enough, my lungs pressed down by the layers, and I can only gasp meekly.

Every day, I step outside and hope nobody notices the unfortunate folds. In the same shallow breath, I hope I can finally feel the sun on the skin hidden underneath.

I've seen what happens to the double-bodied. Their outer layer ripped off, exposing the real person crawling beneath the faux muscle.

Before the circle of onlookers forms, I turn away. That's all I can ever stand to watch, and I hurry as I sag and bulge in awkward spots. I use their exposure to cover my escape.

Sometimes I wish it was me. Sometimes I wish that I'd have the suit ripped off of me, and that they wouldn't stop. They'd tear into the real body underneath, and flay me open for all to see. At least then, I'd be seen.

I'm fixing my shoulder, which has come undone, when I walk too closely by someone else. My head is bent so I don't catch who it is. Though their glance is quick, I can feel them see my real eyes underneath.

They stop, I don't. They turn, I don't. They speak, I don't.

When their hand pulls me to face them, I'm fighting and moving away as fast as I can. Only after the panic-laden haze moves from my head do I look at them for the first time.

Bodiless. Skinless. They're all gleaming muscle, veins on display that are fat with the blood running across the exposed bone.

With their eye-lidless eyes, they see me.

I have two bodies, they have none. The math is easy.

I'm shucking off the body, ripping at the lard that'd started to adhere to the back of my neck. It's a crunching, crinkling, tearing affair as I press myself against the inside of the tomb I'm wearing.

It doesn't give immediately and the dread worms its way up my gut. Now that I want it off, it won't come undone. A corset, with the ribbons in a knot that my fingernails can't unpluck. I can feel the heaviness of the skin, and the way my breath is sucked out of me before I get the chance to breathe it. Every square inch of me is covered by claustrophobic flesh.

Doubled-over, I don't notice that The Skinless Person has moved in front of me. They grab the sides of my face, guiding my head up with a touch so achingly gentle.

I'm level with them when they plunge their fingers into the eye sockets of the outer body. Their bones get close to my real eyes, and I shrink back as the appendages wiggle in the dried jelly of my not-eyes.

The whole of the eye socket is loosened, and they can add more fingers to the prodding. The fingers becomes a whole hand, which becomes two, until they can split me out with a sudden wet tear.

It's the first time I can actually breathe. My lungs expand, and I'm gasping in the fresh air. Though still the same, the world looks different too. Not observed from several layers back. Everything is fresh, real, and a fingertip's length away.

I step out of the suit, and pick up the rumpled discarded mass of it. It's torn and jagged around the edges, but it can be fixed up with a good tailor.

The Skinless Person smiles, showing all their teeth, but they shake their head and step back. The suit of meat flaps in my hand when I try to give it to them.

Instead, they turn away. Wading into the sea of the single-bodied, who all watch their lithe skinless form. I watch them too.

The sun peaks out from behind the clouds, and kisses my freshly unveiled skin. Now that I'm unburdened, who do I want to be?

Just a small thing, but I remember finding it cathartic to write.

That’s what I got for you this month! A lot of irons in the fire from various aspects of my life.

I’ll catch you next month :)

Cheers.