Writing Exercise: a conversation with yourself

[NotWise]

We all have questions we need to work out, don't we? Maybe you have an internal friend that you can talk things out with, or a whole committee of different interests to resolve.

The challenge is to write an internal dialog with yourself. Maybe solve a problem, talk yourself into something, or find a winding path you hadn't thought of before. Whatever it is, follow @StillStunned rules: 250 words or less, posted to the thread. Were there other rules? I don't remember.

 

[NotWise]

For starters...


"They'd probably fire her at the same time they fired us.”

“Who would know? They can’t fire her or me for something they don’t know about.”

“So, are we thinking ‘one-night stand?’ or…”

“I’m thinking about her smile. I’m thinking about her laugh. I’m thinking about her body. I want her body.”

“She’s married.”

“Can’t you tell he doesn’t keep her happy? I’ll walk up behind her and put my hands on her hips. She’ll know it’s me. She’ll lay her head back against my shoulder. Her scent… Oh God.”

“Now you’ve turned us on. What are we going to do?”

“She’ll do it for me. Or maybe I’ll do her.”

“In front of the office window?”

“Right there. The guys across the street can watch me do her.”

“This is getting better.”

“She’s not sure at first, but then she wants me to touch her like she’s a cat in heat. She bites my ear, my throat. She won’t stop that until I taste her mouth.”

“She’ll taste like the salad she had for lunch.”

“No, she won’t. She’ll taste like sex. Her mouth, her tits, her thighs—I’ll taste them all, and they’ll all taste like sex.”

“How does she smell?”

“There’s heaven between her legs. She smells like heaven, and she comes like a beast.”

“Umm. Are we done now?”

“Just a sec… Yeah. Done now.”

 

[SpicyBean99]

“So you fucked her?”

“Yeah. I did.”

“But you had a boyfriend?”

“A boyfriend who made me feel small each time I spoke. Who loved me more when I stayed quiet.”

“Still. You cheated.”

“I know. I’m not pretending it was noble.”

“It was desperate.”

“He loved you.”

“He loved control.”

“So what, what was so special about her?”

“She listened. Even when there was nothing to be said. She listened.”

“That’s it?”

“She kissed the bruises he left, and bandaged up a heart that wasn’t hers to mend.”

“You don’t regret it, do you?”

“I regret waiting that long to feel wanted…”

“Would you do it again?”

“Yes.”

“But this time, I wouldn’t apologise for how good she made me feel.”

 

[Djmac1031]

"I really wanna tell her about my stories but I'm afraid."

"What are you afraid of? They're just stories."

"Yeah, but they're kinda perverted stories. At least most of them anyway."

"So?"

"So, I'm afraid she'll judge me, think im just some sex fiend."


"Dude, seriously? She loves sex, watches porn and reads smutty romance novels and even went to a swingers club with you once. And you're worried she'll be offended by your little jerk off stories?"

"I know, I know. I'm being silly, right? All that repressed religious upbringing still rearing it's ugly head I guess."

"Yeah, I get it. But that was a long time ago. And she's been nothing but supportive and loving. Why would that change just because you wrote some sex fantasies?"

"You're right. I'll tell her."

 

[filthytrancendence]

I don't understand why she won't cut him out of her life.

Yes you do.

Okay. But it's fucking exhausting. And he's back to drinking again, so the violence is going to be a weekly thing.

Yeah. That blows. He's a piece of shit.

Maybe. But your perspective is skewed, and always will be. Your opinion of him is irrelevant.

He's beside the point. He's a dust storm that kicks up every afternoon. You can shake your fist at the sky, but then you're just an idiot shaking his fist at the sky.

She's the point. She cares more about living up to her values than she does about anything, including her personal safety.

I know. It's why I love her.

So just love her, and stop shaking your fist at the dust storm. You don't get to decide who the people you love, love.

I have been. I do. I just need to bitch about it sometimes, and she's not the right outlet for that.

Maybe someday you can have a normal adult conversation with her about him. But your empathy is broken as it pertains to abusive dickheads.

I'm not sure empathy is the problem. It's that you can't hear about his bullshit without reacting as if its her.

I'm getting better. I'm just not there yet. And it's not helpful when I foist my own trauma baggage onto her when she's the one going through it.

Maybe someday.

 

[TheLobster]

"Again?"

"Yes, again."

"But it's not even him doing it this time! It's just some other guy..."

"So what? It's still the same thing. And you'll love it all the same."

"I don't have time for this crap! You see how much work I have piled up already? Deadlines are coming up fast, and I still —"

"It's exactly the distraction you need. It will do you good. Take your mind off of things. Clear it."

"It's a waste of time."

"Nah, think of it more as... foreplay."

"Did... did you just make it sexual?"

"Hah! Why wouldn't I? It's all about that in the end, isn't it?"

"...Well, yes, but you don't have to make it so explicit, you know?"

"I said 'foreplay'. If I really wanted to be explicit, I'd compare it to a very short but very, very satisfying quickie."

"Shut up! I'm not listening!"

"Aww, come on! I know you want to..."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"..."

"You really, really do..."

"Ugh..."

"Well...?"

"UGH!"

"Hmm? What's that, sweetie?"

"...Fine."

"Ah... Fine what, exactly?"

"I'll do it."

"Do what, honey?"

"I... I'll do this Writing Exercise. Just this once."

"I knew you would. And he knew that, too."

 

[StillStunned]

She’s right there. No more than ten feet of sand separating us.

I know. I saw when she arrived. I watched her lay out her towel and lie down.

And take off her bikini top.

Well, I can’t look again now. That would be creepy.

But her boobs were nice!

Yes. But remember the creepy thing.

She wouldn’t be showing them off if she didn’t want people to look.

Bollocks. She’s not showing them off. She’s sunbathing on a beach.

Still.

Yes, still.

So…?

No. Not just yet, anyway. Maybe in a bit I’ll turn over onto my stomach.

Good idea. When’s that going to be?

Not now!

You’re not fooling anyone, trying to lie still like this. Maybe go for a swim? That will give you a chance to look.

No, I have a better idea. My phone!

You’re going to take a selfie with her in the background? And you’re worried that looking would make you a perv?

No, I’ll angle my phone so I can see her reflected on the screen. Pretend I’m listening to music.

Ooo, nice one! Good idea!

Hang on… there. Maybe hold it on its side. Yes. Hmm, nice!

Is she looking at us?

I don’t know. It’s hard to tell with those big sunglasses.

Yes she is! Act casual! Don’t drop the phone, pretend to be doing something else!

Fuck.

 

[StillStunned]

We all have questions we need to work out, don't we? Maybe you have an internal friend that you can talk things out with, or a whole committee of different interests to resolve.

The challenge is to write an internal dialog with yourself. Maybe solve a problem, talk yourself into something, or find a winding path you hadn't thought of before. Whatever it is, follow @StillStunned rules: 250 words or less, posted to the thread. Were there other rules? I don't remember.

Great exercise.

For the record, the word count thing is flexible, but we usually manage to get away with about 350 words without pushing the mods too far. The other rules are to not to post anything that wouldn't pass Lit's publication criteria: so no underage sex, no bestiality, no hard non-con, no AI.

 

[Erozetta]

"You've taken on too many projects," I say as I cross my arms and lean back against the wall. I'm sure there was a smug look on my face.

"No, I can do this. I just have to..."

"Not sleep. Or eat."

"I can alternate."

"Liz, ya fucked up. You're a workaholic and now you've piled on side projects to your 10-12 hour work days. You're fucking exhausted."

"Well, now I'm gonna do it just to prove you wrong."

"You're gonna end up in the hospital." I laugh and look over at her, the pissy determination on her face is familiar to me. The unrealistic drive of needing to always feel useful, to be in constant go mode because anything less is nothing short of failure or laziness.

"I am not."

"Are too."

She pouted and I rolled my eyes. "You're the idealist. I'm the realist. Somewhere between us is where we need to be," I said.

"I don't know how to stop." She sat down. First time I'd ever seen her not doing something to make herself feel useful.

"You breath and prioritize. What deadlines are coming up first? Focus on that, get it done, send it off, and don't look back as you start the next. Stop trying to perfect everything."

"But..."

"You don't have time to perfect it. Get it done. Turn it in. Move forward."

Her hand twitches and leg bounces. The energy she exudes is exhausting to me. She literally can't stop unless she's forced to.

"I could tie you up." My eyebrow arched and the corners of my lips lifted in a slight smile.

She stopped her nervous fidgeting and looked up at me. "You wouldn't dare."

"It might help."

"It would be torture. You aren't good at getting things done and I'd have to watch you fumble and fuck it all up."

I unfurled a dark purple rope from a nearby shelf. "Yeah, but we won't end up in the hospital will we?" I bit my lip and looked her over. She was definitely the weaker version of me. I could take her.

 

[mrs_mackenzie]

What follows is a true story. Names changed to protect identities.

Mrs Muckenzie: I've nearly finished this story, now.

Put some anal sex in it
Mrs Muckenzie: No, no, that doesn't at all fit the tone of this sweet, caring-

Put some anal sex in it

Mrs Muckenzie: I really can't work out how to shoehorn that in, though.

Put some anal sex in it

Mrs Muckenzie: Okay fine.

Two Weeks Later

Anonymous Commenter #1: Anal sex doesn't make sense in this story

Anonymous Commenter #2: Love the anal!!

 

[SimonDoom]

You're not really going to write that, are you?

Well, yeah, actually. I thought I would.

It's sick. Perverted.

Isn't that kind of the point?

There are limits. You must observe limits. A little perversity is OK. But this . . .

So, how much is too much?

I should think it's obvious.

It's not obvious to me.

You're being obtuse.

You're being Puritanical.

Fuck you.

No, I think I'll just write my story. You'll thank me later.

 

[MrPixel]

Me: You know this nonsense with Steve accumulating a harem is getting out of hand.

Mini-me: So? They're cute. I like cute ones.

No. Seriously. It's crossed the line from a fun fantasy into a ridiculous premise.

But they cuddle so nice, and the other girls love 'em, too!

In your dreams, kiddo. You're adding a new one every story!

And that's a problem? At least I'm putting some distance between him and the new ones now.

Yeah. Love 'em and leave 'em. What about those beauty queens? You forget about 'em?

Oops. But the daughters have aged-out of the pageant circuit. They have no excuse to visit!

But you still want to give that mother-daughter-daughter dynamic a whirl, doncha?

NO! The characters already had their say on that!

Doesn't matter. Steve is wearing it into a pencil, anyway. How many you have in that "poly" foolishness now?

8 women, 3 guys.

And the two 22-year-olds Steve just gave door privileges to. And the two sales chicks he's doing at the hotel. And the girl who runs the porn store.

Uh. They're all having fun, right?

I guess. Carry on. [...sigh...]

 

[TiberiusPrime]

Ugh. Nooo…

C’mon, get up.

5 more minutes

You said that 10 minutes ago.

I did not.

Get. Up.

Fuck you.

There’s coffee.

Coffee?

Yesss… you like coffee.

I like my warm bed more.

What about money?

I like money too.

So get up.

Ugh.

Get up. Keep job. Get money.

Fuuuuucck….

You can do it. Coffee awaits.

Fuck you. Fiiiiiine.

There you go!

First I pee.

Fiiiiine.

Ahh…

 

[StillStunned]

Psst! Psst! Are you awake?

Hnnn?

Are you awake?

Fuck off. It’s the middle of the night.

Remember that woman in the train?

Wh–? The one standing next to us? With the low-cut blouse?

Remember?

Yes, I remember. Remember how we tried not to stare?

But we remember. And we can imagine. Just picture this. How about–

No, fuck off! I need my sleep.

–it’s busy, and more people get on the train, and she’s pushed up against us, and–

Stop it!

–and she’s breathing, and her boobs press into our arm.

Go on.

And she’s not wearing a bra.

But she was wearing a bra.

But what if she wasn’t? The material of her blouse was thin. We’d feel her warmth on our skin.

Catch her scent.

Exactly. Maybe her hair brushes our cheek.

Maybe her thigh presses against ours.

Maybe she glances up and smiles.

A quick smile, an apology. But then another one, slower.

Secretive.

She knows what we’re thinking.

She’s thinking the same.

People move, she turns, facing us.

She’s pressed against our chest.

Breathing deeply. She glances up.

Licks her lips.

Opens her mouth to speak. She says–

Fuck it, never mind what she says. Let’s have a wank.

 

[NotWise]

I found my spot on the bench and watched light from the museum on the other side of the pond reflect from the calm water. The night was cool and quiet. I could hear myself think, “You did that wrong.”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe you should have taken her out to that fondue place she liked. You could have gotten her drunk first.”

A duck on the far bank quacked as if to join my conversation. I picked a twig off the grass in front of me and watched the ripples it made on the water. “I don’t have the money for that place, and I didn’t want her drunk.”

“You never have the money. So, stupid… What do you do when she says ‘No?’ Is it over, or do you try again?”

“Depends on her, doesn’t it? Is it a hard ‘No’ or a ‘No, not now?’”

“Can you guess from the look on her face? From the way she left?”

There were voices in the dark—lovers talking about organic chemistry or the color of a dream.

“I got nothin’. I’ll finish the year. I’ll graduate. I’ll start over.”

A touch on my shoulder. The scent of her. “I knew you’d be here.” I watched the light reflect in her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Forever, yes.”

 

[StillStunned]

It's quiet here.

Isn't it? Where is everyone?​

Dunno. Off chasing zebras perhaps.

You mean we had all today's fun in one thread,
in the space of a couple of hours?​

Could be. I can't think of any other explanation.

Maybe everyone's put us on ignore?
Or they've moved the discussions over to DM, and we're not invited?​

Don't make jokes like that.

It wasn't a joke.​

I know. (Sigh) So, what now?

We could write. You know, that thing we do.
Or that thing we pretend to do while we're hanging out in the AH.
We could. We were making good progress earlier.
And we have no idea where the story's going.​

That's always more fun. Let's do that.
These miserable gits can keep their private DMs.
We don't need them.

Damn right we don't. We can make our own friends. Let's get writing.​