Hey peeps, just wanna say I’m reeally behind on alla my inktober stuff, so I’ll try my best to post a few every once an’ a while.  If there’s any I missed at the end a’ October, I’ll finish ‘em  up then post ‘em  all at once.
’Pologies ‘bout th’ lack a’ consistency, bin a bit busy... anyway, thanks everybody, I really enjoy young writer’s project, so here’s to everyone who made it so welcoming, Thanks!!


(If you’re confused about all the abbreviations, I decided to write the way I talk, for fun... Dunno why.
pleaz tell me if it’s annoying.)
 

Winter is not about doing basic things like building snowmen with your friends or sipping hot chocolate by an open fire. Winter is about the simple things you can enjoy, like admiring that perfect little flake of snow that landed on your hand and watching it slowly melt away until it’s just a tiny water droplet slithering its way down your hand. Or when you are waiting for the school bus and you take a long breath of fresh crisp air and exhale to see the beautiful hazy white veil of your carbon dioxide slowly appear in front of you. Watching your favorite maple tree that is at the center of your back yard lose it’s very last vivid red leaf, then looking around to realize that all of the beautiful reds and oranges and yellows are gone, only to be replaced by the blinding white blanket of snow that stretches as far as the eye can see.

There is fresh powder outside after the nor’easter last night. The sun is just barely coming over the snowy mountains as I drive down the highway, no one else but me and the snow on the road. My excitement grows more and more the closer I get to the mountain, seeing all of the trees wearing garments of white, their branches bending from the weight of the snow slowly sliding off. As I pull into the parking lot, I see no one but the most enthusiastic and daring riders. I grab my snowboard out of the back of my car hoping that it will be able to stay above the deep snow as I ride. I strap into my board and ride down to the chairlift, I can already tell this will be the perfect winter day. I am one of the first people on the lift. I scope out the trails as I go over them. 

Both of us were exhausted. Barely enough energy to tell stupid jokes. I got a ton of stuff in the arcade. So much that it gave me an excuse to put it in the seat next to me, leaving me in the middle next to him. We sat in silence for about 10 minutes, a quiet joke here and there. I can't keep my eyes open. He finally turns away from the window to stare at his hands. My hands by my thighs, barley grazing his. You can tell he wants to hold my hand, but I have bigger plans. I tell myself that I'll do it the second the clock changes. 30 seconds couldn't have been slower. The time comes. Like in a cartoon, plop. My head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His bony shoulders dig under my jaw. I sit up. My jaw is sore. It's only been 5 minutes and I can't take being in this position. Jokingly, I tell him, 'your shoulder is so damn bony.' Also jokingly, he says, 'this better?' He slings his arm over my shoulder. I don't know where to put my head.

hazel's house is almost fully cast, but for one ghost and a few people who haven't confirmed. costumes for all but a few of the characters have been purchased. shooting locations are starting to become a concern, order of filming is on my mind, and we have met with one of our actors and have a plan ot meet with another already. i've made a few minor changes to the script so it can be shot with the cast we have. so in the meantime there's only one thing to do that i take care of: props.

If I heard a wolf howl, I would not be scared. I have a few reasons for this. My first reason is wolves do not try to hurt you, they do it for self-defense. My second reason is a wolf's howl is very fascinating, so it would not even phase me or cause me to get scared. My last reason that a wolf's howl would not scare me is that I have coyotes in the woods I live in, so I'm used to it. That is why I would not be scared if I heard wolves howl.

Involuntary shudders,
Are good and bad. Happy but often sad. 
The feeling I associate with ghosts.
And the feeling I associate with the thril of life.
A good reason to like my nose,
Because you like my nose.
And our noses touch.
The need to do a cartwheel even though you know you can't,
I can not do a cartwheel to save my life.
But then there's those moments where I just get a thrill and want to do a cartwheel.
When your enemy helps you up when you fall,
And there's this moment of safety,
Even when you know that in any other situation it's her who pushes you down.
When it's the middle of the night and you really want to sing but your parents are sleeping,
It happens all the time,
And so you let your heart sing.
And you feel like your actual heartstrings are dancing.
Being in a highschool drama club even though your in 8th grade still,

I feel I must respond. For those of you who don't know me, for 13 years I used to haunt this space; I was the YWP Janitor.

A long time ago, too many years to remember, I picked up a book, Song of Solomon, by Toni Morrison. It had just been published. I started in the afternoon and I finished shortly after dawn. It mesmorized me. It captivated me. It opened a window into a world I did not know, cannot know, can never possibly know because I am a white man. This was a black world, a women's world, a magical unfamiliar world. In today's parlance, I was woke.

I wish I could have had the opportunity to thank her.

I did the next best thing. I read every single one of her books. And this summer, several weeks before she died, I started re-reading her works. I started with Beloved. You must read this. You must.