best seller lists

Life comes at you fast (and everything happens for a reason).

I used to see and hear that all the time. I laughed because it normally was because some idiot said one thing and then was found to be doing another. I’m here to tell you that phrase couldn’t be truer. About a year ago I cheated on my boyfriend, the absolute love of my life. And I know what you’re thinking. If he’s the love of your life, why would you cheat? Curiosity and confidence that I’d never be caught was where I fucked up. Life came at me fast. Within a short matter of time he did find out, he left me and I was forced to move into our newly built house alone. 

I had just published my second book which was on the New York  best sellers list for 9 weeks, I was on a high so naturally nothing could touch me. I realized that my success meant absolutely 0 to me without him there. I thought about him constantly, I mostly stopped writing and fell into somewhat of a depression. I stopped knowing exactly what I wanted out of life, everything was confusing for me. I ended up selling my house and moving back to Ohio with my sister. I literally went from a NY times best seller to sleeping on my sister’s couch all because of some dumb ass mistake. I had to get him back, I couldn’t do anything with out him so I went to Chicago , where he was staying and I let him know in person how much i loved him. He didn’t immediately jump back into my arms and he’s not 100% trusting of me yet but I’m working on proving myself to him.

I basically said all this to say, if you want something, you’re going to have to work for it. Mend your relationships before it’s too late. If you’re meant to be, like I think we are, then nothing will stop you from being together. 

💋💋  Joya

And I’ll never let this man go ever. 💋

PS: My posts going forward won’t be so cheesy, I promise. X0X0

9

otp list 💕  : Damen & Laurent (Captive Prince Trilogy by C.S. Pacat)

“I’m glad you’re here,’ said Laurent. ‘I always thought that I’d have to face my uncle alone.’
He turned to look at Damen, and their eyes met.
'You’re not alone,’ said Damen.
Laurent didn’t answer, but he did give a smile, and reached out to touch Damen, wordlessly.”

Romance, Representation And You

So the last post I reblogged got some interesting comments I want to touch on, namely people stating that they don’t dislike Romance because it’s fluffy and feel good, but because it is often sexist, misogynistic, ableist, heteronormative and woefully lacking in diversity, which yes, absolutely, yes. Those are entirely valid criticisms of the genre—indeed I find them to be valid of any genre, whether it’s sci-fi, fantasy, young adult or otherwise. There is a shocking lack of diversity in our fiction and media—and not because people don’t want it or aren’t trying to make it, but because publishing houses and media can’t see the co-relation between what their marketing teams are telling them, and the actual reality that of course straight white stories are selling the best, of course it is, because you won’t sell anything else, that’s why there’s no sales numbers for anything else.

I worked in a romance publishing house for a good few years, I also worked for their erotica team, and do you know, not once did I ever come across a manuscript with a disabled person? Not a single one. There was also never a manuscript that featured a character with mental illness who wasn’t the villain, or whose issues couldn’t be Fixed With Love™(*vomit*). 

The few times a story featured non white characters, it was usually “The Best Friend Who Gives Sassy Real Advice”, or so horrifically racist that our modus operandi was to nuke it from the office servers rather than try and deal with it because how do you politely tell an author, hey, you’re a fetishistic piece of shit please find God and change the entirety of your story so we can print it, (Answer: you don’t there is no polite way to tell someone they are a  fetishistic piece of shit and you never want their work to darken your inbox ever again.) when you can instead say “Sorry, not what we’re looking for a the moment” and retreat to the relative safety of the slushpile where maybe, just maybe, a hidden gem awaits excavation.

And our publishing house prided itself on diversity because we had an LGBT section, and oh boy let me tell you I was so excited when I got moved over onto that side…only to realize, there’s no w/w fiction because “it doesn’t sell well” and 90% of the m/m fiction is being written by women for women and they fired the one gay author cause his work wasn’t “what was selling” and every bisexual character I ever encountered was either Actually Gay/Actually Straight, or surprise! The Evil Greedy Homewrecker who needs to pick a side, booo hiiiiss, grab your pitchforks and burn the witch.

And I remember, I remember looking to my senior editor who was also my friend at the time, a poly bisexual, mentally ill woman and saying “what the fuck Rebecca” (yes, her name was actually Becky) and she looked at me over our skype call and said “You want to keep your job? Deal with it.”

Because you see, Marketing reigns supreme, and Marketing doesn’t give a shit about people like you and me. It doesn’t care if the neurodivergent person wants to see people like them in fiction, it doesn’t care that people of color want to be more than just the friend/villain, they don’t care that there is more to LGBTQIA+ than the L and specifically the G, it doesn’t care if disabled people want to be represented as more than someone ele’s story arc prop. They don’t care they, don’t care, and do you know why so many publishing houses look down on indie publishing and self published authors and try to call them hacks? Because we don’t give a fuck that they don’t care and we’re doing what we want anyway.

Oh sure you get the usual “but the work is so unpolished, no one has vetted it, it’s just bad, this is why we need publishers to stop the crap from rising to the top”—and yet Fifty Shades of Grey still gets a multi-billion dollar production budget and to the top of the best seller list—do you see, where I am going with this? They’re not interested in selling the best they are just interested in selling, and we are living in a society that has a system designed specifically to a quite literally straight and narrow demographic. So of course XYZ stories sell well, of course they do, because that is where the vast majority of marketing goes, to make sure you buy into it. And Romance…Romance is a lucrative industry to be in if you can get the weight of that campaign behind you…but if you can’t? Well, not only do you have to compete with lack of funding and resources, but also the pervasive lie that because you’re not affiliated directly with X Publishing House or Y Agency, you are not good enough, and no one will want to read your story.

And that’s a bunch of baloney. It’s so much baloney you can slap it between two slices of bread and cover it in mustard because the whole thing is a ham.

Do you know what I would have loved growing up? (And still would) Stories about girls who liked people regardless of gender—and who wasn’t conflicted over it because people are people and gender is fluid and irrelevant to love. Stories about people with mental health issues, where the person is still loved and shown as functional, with their mental health issues, not despite. Stories about disabled and ill people who have fulfilling lives whose arc doesn’t revolve around being brave for simply existing or how much of a saint their families/loved ones are for putting up with them. And do you know what I get instead, even now as an adult who has worked in the industry that sells these stories? I get things like Fifty Shades of Domestic Abuse, and train wrecks like You Before Me where the death of the disabled person is seen as a romantic gesture of selflessness that sets the love interest free to fully live her life. HOW FUCKING FUCKED UP IS THAT. Oh you can argue with me all you want that wasn’t  Moyes intent when she was writing it, but it damn well was the end result.

Yes, Romance is lacking, and yes it needs revamped, it needs more cultural diversity, it needs more inclusion, it needs so many things—but it also needs for people to not want to not write for it because it’s “fluffy” and cheap, like somehow they are selling their souls away. 

I’ve got friends who have written amazing, diverse stories told from their point of view…but they won’t ever get them published because as soon as you mention self publishing or the Romance industry they turn their noses up. And they’re shooting themselves in the foot in doing so, because there ain’t no way a story about XYZ is going to make it in a sci-fi house, no matter who much tech you add in. On the flipside of that, I’ve also got a friend who has written about her experiences as a Black queer disabled woman and it’s filled with relationships and great life stuff and so funny…but she can’t get it published anywhere because she’s been explicitly made to feel like she doesn’t belong in the genre because her stories are too complex, they’re too different they’re too comedic…too…too…too (the list goes on). And that’s awful because Romance is a genre that is primarily about people and if you as a Romance house are telling me you can’t sell a story about people, boy are we well and truly fucked.

The biggest criticism of the Romance genre shouldn’t be that it’s too damn happy and therefore unrealistic and nothing but fluff. What’s unrealistic is the complete lack of diversity and inclusion in the genre that makes it so alienating that a huge part of our society immediately feels like they don’t belong. 

And that’s a bigger problem than fluff.

So great, yes fine, Romance isn’t for you, you can tell me all the time that you don’t like Romance and I will cheerfully talk to you about literally anything else. But don’t ever tell me you don’t like Romance because it’s simple and fluffy when there’s a whole wealth of actual problematic shit to dislike it for.

And to you, yes you, I’m talking to you. You with the idea in the back of your head and the worry that you’ll never be a Serious Author because all you want to write about is romance and people and angst and fluff and also thinking no one wants to read stories about people like you: take that idea and run with with it, learn from your experiences and keep doing it some more and maybe one day we’ll have the publishing industry we deserve that will acknowledge you. But until then: Rebel and Do It Anyway.

me, writing at 12:24 AM: i’m… truly a visionary… the words flow so smoothly… the voice is that of a generation unsung… the characterization? natural… the dialogue? seamless… i predict several awards and a year on the NYT best sellers’ list

me, inevitably, rereading my writing in the horrific and godforsaken light of day: what literally does any of this shit mean

How Seriously Should You Take Writing?

Every once in a while I get to thinking about all the writing stuff out there.

There is so much stuff.

There are so many opinions.

So much advice.

And sometimes I wonder what percentage of people who want to write really need all of them.

The title of this post is “How Seriously Should You Take Writing?” Do you know what the answer is?

However seriously you want.

There is so much stuff out there for writers.

There are conferences where you can learn about writing and meet authors, agents, editors.

There are writing retreats where you can get together with other writers, socialize, and write.

There are hundreds of books on writing you can read about and learn from.

There are blogs, youtube channels, podcasts, Twitter handles, Facebook pages for writers.

There are writing workshops where you can do hands-on learning and get critiques and feedback of your work.

There are open mic nights where you can read your work.

There are community events for writers.

There are writing groups where you meet with other writers and share work.

There are writing luncheons and dinners.

If you know where to find it, there is writing stuff everywhere.

If you really want to write, it can sometimes be hard not to get sucked into trying to do everything–everything mentioned above, including actually writing, and editing, and public appearances, and social media, and blogging, and contests, and …   the list goes on.

But everyone can be a writer. It doesn’t require any of the things in that list above. The definition of a writer is someone who writes.

It doesn’t have qualifiers.

How seriously should you take writing?

However seriously you want.

Keep reading

today i was reflecting in the shower.. where i normally do all of my deeper thinking.. and i couldn’t stop thinking about 2016. i know.. we’re in a new year.. time to let it go.. but i don’t think i properly cleansed myself or made peace with how my year went. and because a lot of what happened to me throughout the year continuously comes to mind.. i knew it was time to sit down and write out my feelings. what has made me the writer or “poet” that i am today.. is i’ve spilled my heart out on paper, time and time again, but lately i’ve been extremely distant. i’m not sure whether it’s because i feel a burden to always be positive and uplifting or because i find myself more afraid than ever. last year i cried. and cried. and cried. more than i’ve ever cried in my 22 years of life. i even made a habit out of watching really sad and emotional movies just so i could find an excuse to. also.. i’ve smoked more than ever before. longing to both - feel.. and be numb. i’d smoke before writing so i could pull certain stories out of me. then i’d smoke after, to forget them. often times.. i just got high enough to make myself fall asleep so i wouldn’t have to deal with anything. in the midst of one of my episodes.. i realized i suffer, and have always suffered, from feeling like nobody really understands me. i’ve always felt like i was someone who was constantly mistaken for an entirely different person. i always feel like i don’t “fit”. i don’t fit around friends.. i don’t fit around family.. i don’t make sense at social gatherings.. i don’t feel at home in my own home. i think a lot of these feelings have come up, from time to time, because i’ve never really known my true identity. all i’ve ever known myself to be is someone that everyone clings to. and not in a “she’s the life of the party” kind of way, but more so, “she’s the person to get advice from” way. and although.. this may sound selfish, sometimes i wish i had someone like me. i wish i had someone who was willing to help solve my problems before solving their own. as i’m typing, i’m starting to cry again. and i’m crying because i don’t know when exactly this will end. or if this discomfort is how i’m meant to live life. maybe this is just the life of an empathic. maybe when i started asking god to “use” me, i signed up for this. the truth is, 2016 should have been the best year of my life. i released a book that hit the best sellers list, i bought my dog that brings an unlimited source of awe to my life, i signed a major publishing deal, i moved out of my parents house and into a new home, i lost friends that never clapped for me, and gained friends who’ve been there for me in every way since, i built this whole “brand” into something much bigger than i ever expected myself to, i found out i was cancer free, i promise the list could continue on. but depression got in the way. of everything. i never once celebrated myself. i never once intervened, and took control. i never even thought to. i felt like whatever i was going through.. i was supposed to. and still.. i’m not sure the reasoning.. i just kept living with a kind of sadness i have yet to find a name for. instead of focusing on all of the goodness that god was placing in my life, i had tunnel vision on everything that i felt was going wrong. i couldn’t see life in a positive light no matter how good things may have got. my parents split up. i was forced to move out. i lost my home base. i went, and still go, months without speaking to either one. my boyfriend was dealing with an ex who continuously threatened to take her life at the account of us being together. all i wanted to do was help her. but couldn’t. i had a new life to take care of, when i could barely take care of my own self. i lost all my friends. literally, every single one. i never ever could leave the house because of how bad my social anxiety was getting. i found out i had a fractured jaw because of the size of a tumor that was holding it in place. i found out i had a fucking tumor that could have been cancerous. i had reconstructive jaw surgery that ruined the nerve and feeling in my mouth. i could not eat or sleep or talk straight for months. i’m still dealing with the pain. i was consistently working and doing interviews right after my surgery. i was and am still extremely exhausted from this. i never properly allowed myself to rest or heal. i started working with a team that could not fully ever understand me which only added to my frustration, loneliness, and sadness. and again, THIS LIST could go on. but more than anything. i was bullied. as my brand kept getting bigger, i was bullied more. and more. and i couldn’t understand how my work, trying to help and heal people, could bring in such negative responses. i couldn’t understand why there were people who were so eager to tear me apart, they would start to attack my image. everyday people attack the way i look and sound. and this kind of bullying brought back a lot of old feelings that i never dealt with as a kid. growing up i was constantly brought down and picked on because of the way i look. i was never skinny enough. or pretty enough. or i was too hairy. or my teeth were too crooked. or my hair was too nappy. or i was too dark. or i was too “black”. or i wasn’t “black enough”. now, i’m receiving - i’m too stupid or i’m too fake. my writing isn’t good enough. my writing is cliche. i look like a monkey. and so on. and so forth. and as i’m typing these things.. i find myself giggling a bit, wondering why i even allow these things to bother me. but truthfully, all negativity from outside sources bothers me. no matter what form it comes in. i always question, “what have i done to deserve this?” and although i often ignore these nasty comments, i’ve realized i harbor the feelings i receive when i see these comments. embarrassment. frustration. confusion. hurt. disappointment. betrayal. i let these statements affect me to the point where i’m starting to silence my voice. i’m starting to be more afraid to speak up for myself. the thought of confrontation makes me nervous. the thought of even receiving any awful comments makes my stomach flip. so i won’t say anything at all. i’ll keep everything to myself if it’ll keep the mean people and their nasty opinions away. but i’m trying to break out of this. i really am. i’m trying to be more understanding of the way people work. i know.. that the way we treat people is a reflection of the way we treat or view ourselves. meaning.. those who are willing to go out of their way to attack a person for absolutely no reason, ultimately feel that they need to. either because, they don’t have enough love for themselves, to be consumed within themselves and their own positivity, or, simply, they hate themselves just as much as they hate me. and not personally, but mainly, their views of life are formed in a negative and hateful way.. more often than not. idk.. maybe i’m getting too ahead of myself. or maybe i make sense and i’m afraid no one will understand it. lol. but anyway. idk. i’m just glad i got to get these things off my chest because i feel like my readers.. and supporters.. or those who just fuck with me, for whichever reason.. are always looking forward to hearing from me. and i’m trying to, again, be more accepting of the fact that not everyone is going to always like my shit. my writing. my poetry. my points of view. my ideas. and that’s okay. that doesn’t make me any less of an artist or woman or idealist.. and that doesn’t make whomever else any less than either. i’m thankful. for these moments of clarity because they really ground me and put me back in my place. i get to reflect on how i’ve sabotaged my own life.. and i pray that god help me heal from it. the reality of this all is.. i’m my own worse enemy. and i have been.. for most of my life. and i know this because i would have never ever allowed myself to go through all the hardships that i did. i would have never allowed myself to not only deal with half the people i’ve dealt with - but also.. i wouldn’t have allowed myself to be as affected by negativity as i was. all i was doing, and all i’ve been doing, is place energy in places and spaces that my energy was never meant to be. 2016 was the ending. i firmly believe this because there is always a storm before a sunny day. there were times last year when i thought i was out of touch with myself and i couldn’t hear god as clearly as i’m used to.. but really.. s/he was with me all along. guiding me to this place i’m in now. this place of - understanding, acceptance, and gratitude. i’m finally understanding that sometimes we go through shit. sometimes a lot of shit. but what we go through doesn’t define us. it shapes us into the people that we’re ultimately meant to be. stronger. wiser. and happier.. if anything. i’m finally accepting that some things, many things, are out of our control. but we have much more control than we think. the way we react to life will result in our karma. we can choose how to react and ultimately this will help affect all of our situations moving forward. i’m also learning to accept people as they are. everyone will do as they please. and not everyone will be considerate of mine, or anyone else’s, feelings. in knowing this, i have to constantly remind myself to not take anything personal. the longer i feed into other peoples negativity, the longer i’ll be miserable. misery is the result of not fully understanding or not fully having control over certain situations. but the more intuitive we are.. the easier it will be to keep away from misery. and finally.. i’m grateful for the one friend i had all along.. whom i never give enough credit to. my best friend and boyfriend. every single tear that came strolling down my cheek.. he was always here to help wipe and then uplift me. the more silence i become the more he encourages me to speak. even if he, himself, doesn’t fully understand. i’m grateful to god for showing up in all forms. people. places. numbers. symbols. etc. i cannot be anymore thankful for my relationship with god. for not only helping me get through one of the best/worst years of my life.. but also.. for giving me the strength to open up about it. knowing.. that everyone’s perception of me is that i’ve “got it all together.”
—  Reyna Biddy
Vagabond | Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid

Requested: Yep! #98      

             “Don’t shut me out

Warnings: Implied sex, swearing, alcohol

Summary: You were always a vagabond, a writer with no real home, going place to place aimlessly. That is, until you met a one, Spencer Reid.

Word count:

A/N: I have been thinking about this plot for a while now and then someone requested this prompt and it fit really well so I ran with it! Idk if I like this, it feels choppy and forced. Anyways, feedback is always appreciated!!!


Your parents always call you their vagabond. You couldn’t stay in one place for very long, and as a writer, you didn’t have to. Always finding short leases and having few large personal belongings, you moved at least once a year. You grew up in the Midwest but knew you were destined for bigger things so you worked your way through high school and university and left the second that degree was in your hand. First you went to California, writing for a newspaper there and writing your novels when you got home from work. Before you knew it, you were signed to a big publisher and making Best Seller lists, so you took off once again. It didn’t really matter where you went so long as you had your drafts emailed to your editor on time.        

             You first met Spencer Reid in New Orleans when he was visiting Ethan. After seeing Ethan during the Jones’ case, Spencer had made a point to visit his old friend more often. Him and Ethan had been sitting in the bar Ethan was playing at when you had come in. You were friends with the musician, he was one of the first people you met when you first moved to The Big Easy and you were quick friends.

             “Y/N,” Ethan greeted, standing up and wrapping his arm around your shoulders, “This is my old friend Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid, this is Y/F/L Y/L/N, with how much you read I’m sure you recognize the name.”

             “I- yeah, I’m a big fan of your work.” Spencer said with a bashful smile, standing up to shake your hand.

             “Why thank you,” You grinned at the tall FBI agent before excusing yourself to grab a drink.

             “Don’t even think about it, she’ll break you in half.” Ethan said with a smirk, noting the way his friend looked at you as you walked away.

             “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spencer said quickly, a bit hurt at his friend’s comment.

             “Ethan’s told me a lot about you, Spencer,” You say as you sit down with your drink, “How long are you in town for?”

             “A few days, if I don’t get called in on an emergency case,”

             “Perfect,” You say with a siren’s smile.

Keep reading

2

I wanted to write just a couple key moments in bugheads life! Enjoy guys! It’s a long one, better grab some popcorn!
****

“I have no idea.” F.P said defeated, throwing his hands in the air and looking helplessly at his son, who was staring at himself in the mirror with the same confused look in his eyes.

“It’s impossible. This is not humanly possible.” Jughead Mumbled as his fingers toyed with his shirt collar and he tugged restlessly.

“It’s satans work is what it is.” F.P growled pulling the offending object from his neck and chucking it at the door, unfortunately Betty chose that moment to walk in and was hit square in the face by the dark blue silk tie.

“Oh!” She said surprised, holding the garment in her hand and smiling at the boys in front of her. “Thankyou?” She asked.

“Sorry Betty Blue Eyes, you got caught up in the middle of a fight between me and that jerk.” F.p grabbed the tie from her hands and squeezed her shoulder smiling warmly at his favorite little lady.

“No problem.” She laughed “having a little trouble?” She glanced behind F.P at Jughead and he smiled shyly, putting his hands up and shrugging as his tie lay limp around his neck

“This is not a simple tie Ms.Cooper, it is the tie to end all ties” he held it out to her and she rolled her eyes
“My apologies, here let me help”

Betty’s hands expertly twisted around F.Ps neck and within seconds his tie was perfectly done and she was moving to stand by Jughead as F.P stared at her in amazement
“You are a lifesaver little one” he plopped down on the couch and stared at the two teens before him.

Betty was standing before Jughead as Jughead leaned into the blondes hands and took up her space

“How are you feeling?” She whispered as she tugged on his shirt collar, her fingers gently passing his neck. Today was F.Ps final court appearance and the judge would decide if he had jail time or just community service

“Nervous. Nervous but ready.” He said, his hands moving to gently rest on her waist. Betty had been there through all of it, she had sat beside him at every court date, held his hand as he visited his father, and she had been in the passenger seat the day they had made bail, now she was here for the end and he didn’t think he could do it without her.

“I’ve got faith.” She smiled and gently tugged his tie straight. He looked down at her and prayed that she could read his mind, that she could tell just how much her being there meant to him, just how grateful he was for her. He dropped a kiss to her lips but quickly pulled back when he saw the bright flash go off beside him.

“Dad!”

“What?” The older man held up the Polaroid proudly “its for the grandchildren. You’ll thank me when you’re older.”

Betty shook her head and giggled, grabbing the truck keys and smiling

“Alright boys, onward and upward and into the jaws of death.”

The two Jones boys shook their heads and smiled. Betty Cooper was something else.
****

“It doesn’t matter mom, it wasn’t meant to last, you knew it, I knew it, he knew it. We were just fooling ourselves. If Veronica stops by tell her I’ll be over tonight. I just… I need..” as Betty’s eyes filled with tears, she shook her head quickly and ran up the stairs, slamming her door as she collapsed into sobs on her bedroom floor.

Alice placed a hand to her heart, her daughter was in pain and it physically hurt her to see the normally bubbly blonde revert back to her old ways. She hadn’t seen Betty this upset since sophomore year. Taking a deep breathe she moved to start up the stairs when a pounding on her front door stopped her in her tracks

“Ms. Cooper! Please! Ms. Cooper, you have to let me in! Please let me explain! Please!” Jughead was pleading with her from the opposite side of the door, opening it slowly she was met face to face with her daughters absolutely frazzled boyfriend. Jughead beanie was missing and the flannel he wore was buttoned completely wrong, while his suspenders hung unclipped at his side, his dark waves were a mess.

“Oh thank god” he mumbled, rushing into the household “she doesn’t understand that she’s all i want, she doesn’t know how much she means to me, I don’t care about any of those fancy names or big places, all I want is her, I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said but she’s just so stubborn ya know? I mean I…” he was cut off by the quick and heavy footsteps sprinting down the stairs

“Stubborn?! I’m stubborn?! Have you looked in the mirror recently? I’m just trying to stop you from making the biggest mistake of your life! I’m so sorry for trying to help you!” She shouted in his face, pushing past her mother and standing toe to toe. Alice Cooper stood frozen in her spot.

“Don’t you get it?! You are my life! You’re everything to me. I don’t care about any stupid acceptance letters or big name schools, I want to be wherever you are! My publicist doesn’t care where I’m located, I can write my books from anywhere!” He was begging her but she shook her head.

“I’m not leaving Riverdale Jughead, my family is here, pollys here, baby jayjay is here. They have a great elementary education program at Riverdale Community. I’m staying here. But you! There’s a whole world for you to see out there! I love you and I’ll miss you so much but I cannot be the reason you miss out on seeing the world!” Tears were falling freely down her cheeks now and he placed his palms on either side of her face

“You are my world! Everything I want is right here. I love you. I love Riverdale, if this is where you want to stay, this is where we’ll stay. My dads here, and Jellybean comes here every summer, this is my home too. My home is wherever you are! My first book is already doing so well I can afford to get us an apartment! Don’t you want to be with me?” He wiped at her tears as his own built in his eyes

“Of course I do! I love you. I just don’t… I don’t want you to hate me.. to resent me with time.” Her eyes dropped and he shook his head

“I love you. I could never hate you. I would follow you anywhere, you’re just saving me a trip.” He smiled when he heard her quietly giggle and he pressed his lips to hers
“Wherever you go I’m right beside you okay?” He asked as she nodded

Suddenly the couple was blinded by a bright light and looked up find Alice Cooper standing before them with a digital camera in her hands

“Mom!”

“That was beautiful! I’m an old woman let me live vicariously through your love” she snapped a few more as Betty and Jughead rolled their eyes before both posing goofily for the camera.
***

She laughed as F.P swung her around the dance floor, sending her poofy white dress flying as he lifted her off her feet before placing her back on the ground and holding her by the waist.

“So how does it feel to officially be a jones?” He asked as they slow danced to the familiar father daughter track.

“Long overdue I’d say” she giggled as he puffed his chest out proudly. “Thank you for walking me down the aisle, I invited my dad to the reception but…” she trailed off looking around sadly.

F.p shook his head, Hal Cooper was an absolute idiot, that he was certain of.
“No Betty, Thankyou. You saved my life. You saved my sons life and I can’t repay you for that, you stuck by him through it all, and I know what a tough son of a bitch he can be.” Betty giggled

“Hey that’s my husband you’re talking about!” She smiled brightly.

“You’re decision not mine” the older man teased, spinning Betty around “anyway. I couldn’t ask for a better daughter in law, so thank you for saving both of us.” Betty wiped at her tears as F.P let his freely fall

“Are you making my wife cry on our wedding day?” The familiar timber of Jugheads voice caused them both to smile. F.p gently shoved Betty into his sons arms and took Alice by the hand

“We’re bonding.” He shrugged before moving to the center of the dance floor, Alice laughing the whole way.

“What was that all about Mrs.Jones?” Jughead asked slightly concerned at her tears.

Looking up at her husband, Betty smiled happily
“Nothing at all Mr. Jones.” He beamed as he dropped a kiss to her lips

“This way you two!”

Veronica called from beside them, she held her camera up and motioned for them to smile as she snapped the picture. Veronica took photos fro fashion magazines all over the world and as Betty’s bridesmaid she demanded she also be the Wedding photographer. Looking up at Jughead as he stared lovingly down at her, she ignored the bright flash of the camera and stared deep into her brand new husbands eyes.
****

“Oh no.” She stood in front of the mirror.

Jughead came running out of the bathroom
“Oh no what?!” He asked frantically, reaching for the bag by the bed.

“I look like a whale.” Betty said blandly, still staring at her reflection in the mirror “might as well call sea world, who needs a book launch, I’ll just start a new career as the first pregnant whale to speak English.” She pouted as she tugged on the skin tight black dress, pulling her nude heel over her foot.

Jughead bit his lip to keep from laughing, tonight was the launch of their very first book as co authors, it had gone over so well that they were already number five on the New York Times Best Seller List. Apparently the concept of a couple writing a book together did very well for sales and they were already sky rocketing, Us Weekly had actually written a two page spread on the “Small Town Star Crossed lovers.” Unfortunately Betty was six months Pregnant and all belly, she seemed to gain no weight anywhere else and as a first grade teacher she was used to flowy sundresses and flats. The stylist had picked out a tight dress and high heels, she looked absolutely amazing to Jughead but apparently the mirror said something else.

“You look beautiful. Too beautiful to even argue” he wrapped his hands around her waist and rubbed her baby belly.

“Really?” She wasn’t one to be vain but hey, pregnancy really does things to your self confidence.

“ absolutely.” He pressed a kiss to the shell of her ear and felt her shudder. Oh yes.

“Alright who’s ready for pictures!” Kevin came into the room and waved his tablet around. Oh did I mention? Kevin was the Jones family manager.

Jughead rolled his eyes and smiled goofily at Kevin as Betty stuck her tongue out

Kevin snapped the picture and in a dull, unamused voice exclaimed

“Charming”

Jughead smiled down at his wife and bent down to press a kiss to her tummy for good luck

“Ready mama?”

“You got it daddy.” She giggled.

****

“Ma! Come here!”

Betty came barreling down the stairs, her ten month old daughter , Lila, snuggled against her chest

“What’s the matter Cody?!” She looked him up and down for any damage

“Chill mom, I just wanted to know what this was.” The nine year old boy held up the dark blue album and handed it to her, gently taking Lila in his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Betty smiled at the scene in front of her as she ruffled her sons dark waves.

“This is Mine and your dads, it’s our memories.” She opened the album and began flipping through the pages, pointing out pictures and telling the story that went along with each one, Cody was in hysterics and Lila had fallen back asleep.

“Dad really wore that beanie everyday?” He asked, wiping his eyes from laughter

“Yeah well you wear your burger boxers everyday to school.”

Both Betty and Cody turned around at the familiar voice, Jughead stood against the door frame, arms crossed and grinning.

“It’s different! Not everyone can see them! How did you even land mom! She was like… well.. no offense mom but you were a babe and dad… not so much!”

Jughead snorted
“Oh no offense mom? What about no offense dad?” He walked forward and started tickling his son who began laughing like crazy and grabbing at his dads hands, Lila woke up and stirred reaching her arms out for her older brother

“I’ll go feed her! Then I’m going to go play basketball with Jason Andrews, next door.” Cody gently grabbed his baby sister and led her to the kitchen.

Jughead plopped down beside his wife and draped an arm over her shoulders, staring down at the album

“How did I land you?” He asked, gently nuzzling her neck as she stretched.

“Right back at you Romeo.” She dropped her lips to his.

It has been a reasonable length of time since this incident and it is still on my mind so I feel content talking about it. 

Some years ago I was asked to be a panelist at an author’s Q&A. I was told that we would be approaching a number of topics: cross-genre writing, putting humor into tense topics, and diversity. 

And I was so excited because I have been an advocate for diversity in fiction since I started writing! Not only as a lesbian who would like to see representation, but as someone who has grown up in a diverse world full of different kinds of people. I love reading from the perspective of someone who is different from me and honestly that is one of the greatest things about the world of fiction- seeing things from the eyes of another is just so paramount to the concept of literature. 

I get there and there are five of us. Three white dudes, two white women. 

Sadly, this is par for the course. 

We went on, talked about our topics and then we get to diversity. And I was expecting things like ‘how can we, as authors, encourage diversity in our respective genres?’ And I was ready. I had a mentally bulletted list of things like… uplifting people of color who write fiction and making an effort to ask ourselves why we need our characters to be white/straight/cis and I had a list of sources for research and I had quotes from famous people and I was READY!


But the question was:

“Do we owe anything to our readers in terms of diversity?”

And I was hiding how pissed I was because there were cameras rolling. 

Do I owe anything? As if having more than one non-white dude in a story is somehow a burden? As if there is no legitimate JOY that comes from learning about other people’s stories? As if it is somehow the fault of the reader for wanting more than the same story about a sad white dude with a dark past and his sad white girlfriend with an even darker past. 

And this was when I realized that I likely don’t even live in the same world as the people writing the questions. Because I have been exploring different narratives and trying to see things from different perspectives for so long that it never occurred to me that even an attempt at inclusion might be seen as a oppressive demand to some people when for me it is just reflexive. 

Do I fuck up sometimes and publish stereotypes? Yes. And when I do that, I apologize. There’s always something I can be improving on. It hurts to get called out, but not everything revolves around my feelings. I’d rather people inform me so I can strive for better than be boycotted forever because of an oversight on my part. 

Hurtful stereotypes against people of color will get published and even make the best sellers lists. No questions asked. 

Authors of diverse backgrounds have to contend with questions like ‘why are all the white people in your stories evil?’ and ‘where are all the straight people?’ and ‘why don’t you challenge yourself by writing from the cis perspective?’ and ‘no one is going to believe that a disabled person can accomplish all these things.’ 

That is- if you get published and it’s not through a niche market. 

So that was a long, rambly rant about people’s approaches to diversity that make me mad. 

TLDR-

Diversity should excite you as an author. If you treat diversity as a chore to appease the masses instead of a legitimate way to challenge yourself and grow as an author, then you should stop talking about it on author panels. 

Please support your local writers

Reblogging posts about writing, writers, and books may not be as pretty and fit the aesthetic of your page like supporting visual artists might, but I promise it is equally important. Writers spend years of their life on projects only to have them glanced by in 30 seconds. The books you see being recommended or on best seller lists got there because their agents and sales teams had tens of thousands of dollars to spend to make sure everyone in the world had heard of the book and paid reviewers to read and rate. Most authors don’t have this luxury. They make their entire living off of word of mouth. 

It takes less than a second to reblog a writer’s post, whether it be an excerpt or a sales notification. Signal boosting can literally make or break someone’s career and make a dream come true. If you don’t have time to read or the money to spend on a book, just reblog and help spread the word. Help that book get noticed. This site spends a lot of time preaching about supporting diverse narratives and wanting more representation, but none of that can happen if you don’t support the people trying to provide you that content. Show the big companies–the ones with money–that these stories matter.

variety.com
‘Glee’ Star Chris Colfer Directing Fantasy ‘The Wishing Spell’ Movie for Fox
By Dave McNary

Glee” Star Chris Colfer has signed a deal with Fox to make his feature directorial debut on his fantasy story “The Wishing Spell.”

Colfer will also adapt “The Wishing Spell,” the first book of his six-book “The Land of Stories” series. Fox has acquired the feature rights to the series and set it up with Shawn Levy to produce through his 21 Laps production company with Dan Levine.

“The Land of Stories” includes illustrated picture books, audiobooks, in-world chapter books and an upcoming graphic novel. The final novel in the series “Worlds Collide” is scheduled to be published July 11.

“Wishing Spell” centers on twin brothers who, after losing their father, are transported into a book in which they come face to face with characters from classic fairy tales. For two weeks after the book’s release in 2012, it was number one on The New York Times Best Seller list in the Children’s Chapter Books category.

Colfer and Rob Weisbach will executive produce. Fox’s Kira Goldberg will oversee development for the studio.

Colfer played the Kurt Hummel character on “Glee” and won a Golden Globe. He wrote the 2014 “Glee” episode “Old Dog, New Tricks” and the 2012 movie “Struck by Lightning,” in which he also starred.

21 Laps produced “Arrival” and is currently in production on season two of the Netflix series “Stranger Things.” It’s in postproduction on Fox’s “The Darkest Minds” and on “Kodachrome,” starring Ed Harris and Jason Sudeikis.

Colfer is repped by ICM Partners, Rob Weisbach Creative Management and Myman Greenspan.

2

It was very gratifying to hold the book in my hands, to have the physical weight of the story that I’d written. It was very satisfying on kind of a primal level. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say making the Times Best Seller list. I had never dreamed that that was going to happen. You know when people make those fake Time Man of the Year photos? It felt like that. 

I hate to say that I’m gratified by rank and popular success, but it was cool, I have to admit. And then when I put [the single] “Hell or Highwater” on in my car and it came up on the dashboard with my name, and I was like, “That’s a joke.” I took a picture of it. (X)

Happy Birthday to my Favourite Human, David Duchovny! You are an inspiration, Sir and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the great you taught us! ❤️❤️

2

Hannah Baker had a story to tell. And when 13 Reasons Why hit Netflix in March, the internet couldn’t stop talking about it. Three weeks after the show’s release, it had become the most tweeted-about TV series of 2017, with 11 million tweets. Whether it’s about the subject matter, the performances, or even the music, the conversation surrounding the show has been constant, making it a breakout hit for the streaming service — not to mention landing its original source material, Jay Asher’s 2007 YA novel of the same name, the No. 1 spot on USA Today’s best-seller list.