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When I was nine, possibly ten, an author came to our school to talk about writing. His name was Hugh Scott, and I doubt he’s known outside of Scotland. And even then I haven’t seen him on many shelves in recent years in Scotland either. But he wrote wonderfully creepy children’s stories, where the supernatural was scary, but it was the mundane that was truly terrifying. At least to little ten year old me. It was Scooby Doo meets Paranormal Activity with a bonny braw Scottish-ness to it that I’d never experienced before.

I remember him as a gangling man with a wiry beard that made him look older than he probably was, and he carried a leather bag filled with paper. He had a pen too that was shaped like a carrot, and he used it to scribble down notes between answering our (frankly disinterested) questions. We had no idea who he was you see, no one had made an effort to introduce us to his books. We were simply told one morning, ‘class 1b, there is an author here to talk to you about writing’, and this you see was our introduction to creative writing. We’d surpassed finger painting and macaroni collages. It was time to attempt Words That Were Untrue.

You could tell from the look on Mrs M’s face she thought it was a waste of time. I remember her sitting off to one side marking papers while this tall man sat down on our ridiculously short chairs, and tried to talk to us about what it meant to tell a story. She wasn’t big on telling stories, Mrs M. She was also one of the teachers who used to take my books away from me because they were “too complicated” for me, despite the fact that I was reading them with both interest and ease. When dad found out he hit the roof. It’s the one and only time he ever showed up to the school when it wasn’t parents night or the school play. After that she just left me alone, but she made it clear to my parents that she resented the fact that a ten year old used words like ‘ubiquitous’ in their essays. Presumably because she had to look it up.

Anyway, Mr Scott, was doing his best to talk to us while Mrs M made scoffing noises from her corner every so often, and you could just tell he was deflating faster than a bouncy castle at a knife sharpening party, so when he asked if any of us had any further questions and no one put their hand up I felt awful. I knew this was not only insulting but also humiliating, even if we were only little children. So I did the only thing I could think of, put my hand up and said “Why do you write?”

I’d always read about characters blinking owlishly, but I’d never actually seen it before. But that’s what he did, peering down at me from behind his wire rim spectacles and dragging tired fingers through his curly beard. I don’t think he expected anyone to ask why he wrote stories. What he wrote about, and where he got his ideas from maybe, and certainly why he wrote about ghosts and other creepy things, but probably not why do you write. And I think he thought perhaps he could have got away with “because it’s fun, and learning is fun, right kids?!”, but part of me will always remember the way the world shifted ever so slightly as it does when something important is about to happen, and this tall streak of a man looked down at me, narrowed his eyes in an assessing manner and said, “Because people told me not to, and words are important.”

I nodded, very seriously in the way children do, and knew this to be a truth. In my limited experience at that point, I knew certain people (with a sidelong glance to Mrs M who was in turn looking at me as though she’d just known it’d be me that type of question) didn’t like fiction. At least certain types of fiction. I knew for instance that Mrs M liked to read Pride and Prejudice on her lunch break but only because it was sensible fiction, about people that could conceivably be real. The idea that one could not relate to a character simply because they had pointy ears or a jet pack had never occurred to me, and the fact that it’s now twenty years later and people are still arguing about the validity of genre fiction is beyond me, but right there in that little moment, I knew something important had just transpired, with my teacher glaring at me, and this man who told stories to live beginning to smile. After that the audience turned into a two person conversation, with gradually more and more of my classmates joining in because suddenly it was fun. Mrs M was pissed and this bedraggled looking man who might have been Santa after some serious dieting, was starting to enjoy himself. As it turned out we had all of his books in our tiny corner library, and in the words of my friend Andrew “hey there’s a giant spider fighting a ghost on this cover! neat!” and the presentation devolved into chaos as we all began reading different books at once and asking questions about each one. “Does she live?”— “What about the talking trees” —“is the ghost evil?” —“can I go to the bathroom, Miss?” —“Wow neat, more spiders!”

After that we were supposed to sit down, quietly (glare glare) and write a short story to show what we had learned from listening to Mr Scott. I wont pretend I wrote anything remotely good, I was ten and all I could come up with was a story about a magic carrot that made you see words in the dark, but Mr Scott seemed to like it. In fact he seemed to like all of them, probably because they were done with such vibrant enthusiasm in defiance of the people who didn’t want us to.

The following year, when I’d moved into Mrs H’s class—the kind of woman that didn’t take away books from children who loved to read and let them write nonsense in the back of their journals provided they got all their work done—a letter arrived to the school, carefully wedged between several copies of a book which was unheard of at the time, by a new author known as J.K. Rowling. Mrs H remarked that it was strange that an author would send copies of books that weren’t even his to a school, but I knew why he’d done it. I knew before Mrs H even read the letter.

Because words are important. Words are magical. They’re powerful. And that power ought to be shared. There’s no petty rivalry between story tellers, although there’s plenty who try to insinuate it. There’s plenty who try to say some words are more valuable than others, that somehow their meaning is more important because of when it was written and by whom. Those are the same people who laud Shakespeare from the heavens but refuse to acknowledge that the quote “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them“ is a dick joke.

And although Mr Scott seems to have faded from public literary consumption, I still think about him. I think about his stories, I think about how he recommended another author and sent copies of her books because he knew our school was a puritan shithole that fought against the Wrong Type of Wordes and would never buy them into the library otherwise. But mostly I think about how he looked at a ten year old like an equal and told her words and important, and people will try to keep you from writing them—so write them anyway.

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Heist

Life is full of choices. Some are easy, others are more difficult, and then there are the ones that aren’t really choices at all. For Parker Ravenscroft, helping her brother always fell into that last category—risks be damned. All that changes when Sheridan Sloan re-enters her life. As their relationship grows from friendship to something more she’s forced to choose between her brother and her own happiness. Picking one over the other isn’t the end of things, however, because the ghosts of her past choices have the very real power to destroy the future she so badly wants.

Print length: 455 PAGES

AVAILABLE NOW!!!

Amazon links:  US   UK   CA   AU   DE   FR   ES   IT   NL   JP   BR   MX   IN

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If you’ve ever written a Faberry fic you may want to see if shaneisney has stolen one of your stories without your knowledge or permission.

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This is an appreciation post for the fanfic authors who aren’t included on rec lists

For the fanfic authors who don’t get art of their fics

For the fanfic authors who can’t get to 1000/500/100 hits

For the fanfic authors who don’t get comments/reviews

For the fanfic authors who write for small fandoms

For the fanfic authors who write rarepairs or gen fics

For the fanfic authors who get hate for the ships/characters/fandoms they write

For the fanfic authors who write in English despite it not being their first language

For the fanfic authors who don’t write in English

For the fanfic authors who don’t think anyone reads or likes their work

For the fanfic authors who aren’t big name fans

For the fanfic authors who don’t get requests in their inboxes

For the fanfic authors who can’t write stories that are more than a thousand words

For the fanfic authors who only write one ship

For the fanfic authors who are just starting

For the fanfic authors who have been writing fic for years

For the fanfic authors who use fanfic to practice writing

For the fanfic authors who write self-insert fics

For the fanfic authors who write about their OCs

For the fanfic authors who write to vent or cope

For the fanfic authors who are just waiting for their big break

Keep creating, I love you ❤️

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Christmas List DONE!

Disclaimer: This gif set does not belong to me. I found it on a fanpage and it had no username or gave credit to anyone. If you know who this belongs to, please let me know so credit can be given to the proper person.

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Panel Nominations ending soon!

Thanks to you – our awesome base of femslashers – we’ve got an AMAZING pool of meta panel nominations for TGIF/F 2018 in February!

No, seriously, go look at this list.

If you’ve got an idea you want to submit for consideration, you’ve got until Friday, November 10th to let us know. After that, registered attendees will vote on which panels make the cut onto the schedule. If you want in on the voting, get registered! Every voice matters.

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A candle for the victims of the Orlando shooting.

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Hi poetz. I really love the premise of DB where they remain friends and get together after college. I love the HS and college fics, but for me it makes the most sense to get together after college because they have so much growing up to do. So on that note, are there old fics you can recommend with the same premise? They don't have to be remain friends, it can also be that they met again years after HS. I say old fics 'cause I read the new ones posted on AO3. PS: thank you for your stories :)

Hmm. It’s been a little while since I’ve read some of these, but they mostly keep with the theme of them getting together a little a later. 

Beautiful When You Don’t Try by itwasadream (very, very long & smutty)

Stays In Vegas by kbs-was-here (for the comic take)

Crazy On You by roxystyle011 (also for the comic take)

The Concrete Jungle by ALittleLion (technically still college w/ a bit of Brittana too)

Sometime Around Midnight by pleasant-hell (if you can get past the 2nd person)

Ghost of Ex-Boyfriend Past by FerryBerry (a cute oneshot) 

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If you’ve ever written a Faberry fic you may want to see if shaneisney has stolen one of your stories without your knowledge or permission.

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Save the date!

We are happy to announce that the dates for the third annual TGIF/F have been set for February 16-18, 2018 at the lovely Holiday Inn LAX in Los Angeles, California.

TGIF/F, or TGIFemslash, is an intimate multifandom convention for those who love ladies who love ladies. Con registration will open this fall, so be sure to check back at tgifemslash.com for more details later this year.

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You Know I Want Your Love

A/N: I had started to write the pregnancy smut in Quinn’s pov before changing my mind and switching to Rachel. So as a little bonus, here’s a ‘deleted scene’ transformed into a very short ficlet. 

Her first pregnancy hadn’t been like this.

Oh, there are things that are the same—things that Quinn recognizes with a sense of bittersweet wistfulness—but there have also been a handful of little surprises that hadn’t been present (or that she just hadn’t really been present enough to notice) when she’d been pregnant with Beth.

Keep reading

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Summary: Rachel has seen that look before. On many, many occasions since Quinn hit her second trimester. That look is decidedly hungry—and not for the French toast that Rachel is absolutely, positively not going to burn.

Number 34 in the Don’t Blink series.

Warning: Pregnancy smut.

FF.Net

AO3

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TGIF/F Thursday Night Fun Times!

Even though official programming doesn’t start until Friday morning, we know a bunch of you will be coming in for TGI Femslash on Thursday night. As such, we’ve planned a SUPER FUN NIGHT OF WATCHING THINGS in our party room!

Here’s what’s on the docket:

7:30 PM

We’re jump-starting this con right with a screening of “San Junipero,” everyone’s favorite episode of Black Mirror.

We’ll laugh, we’ll cry, we’ll scream, and then we’ll have a nice long talk about our feelings that will wrap up just in time for a…

9:00 PM

LIVE WATCH OF THE NEWEST EPISODE OF RIVERDALE.

Just in case you’ve forgotten or haven’t seen, here is a VERY IMPORTANT PROMOTIONAL SHOT FROM THE EPISODE:

IT’S THE FABATHROOM ALL OVER AGAIN, Y’ALL.

So you can watch @professorspork scream about that, which is likely to be just as entertaining, if not more than, the episode itself

and then to keep with the fun Archie Comics theme we’re going to round out the evening with our

10:15 PM

screening of timeless classic Josie & The Pussycats.

WHO’S A ROCKSTAR? I AM. WE ARE.

Feel free to opt in or out of as many of these media-watching experiences as you wish! The door will be open all night; snacks and beverages encouraged.

only five more sleeps til Thursgay!

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Something In Your Eyes Is Makin’ Such A Fool of Me

Something in your eyes is makin’ such a fool of me When you hold me in your arms, you love me ‘til I just can’t see. ~Borderline, Madonna

Rachel is in an extremely good mood as she strolls along the sidewalk toward her apartment on West End Avenue, humming the melody to her very favorite song off her newest, soon to be released album. Well—all of her songs are favorites in one way or another, but she’s exceptionally attached to this one because she’d written it about her beautiful little girl. It’s a promise to always be there for her, and God-willing, she’ll be able to keep that promise so much better this year than she had in the last.

Rachel loves her life. She adores her family. And she’s thrilled with the sudden explosion of her career on every front that’s been happening in the last two years, but she’s the first to admit that she’d overextended herself more than a little in the past eighteen months or so.

Keep reading

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Summary: “She’s my best friend,” Rachel defends, suddenly feeling very protective of their relationship. She’d worked so hard for it, and they’ve come so far from where they’d started. Of course Quinn’s good opinion means everything to her.

Number 33 in the Don’t Blink series (otherwise known as the epiphany).

Warning: Original male character in the form of Rachel’s ex-boyfriend, Peter.

FF.Net

AO3

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Coming to a Kindle store near you on March 31st...

It was just supposed to be a working weekend in Maui and not anything remotely life-altering, but all that changes the moment Gwen Harrison holds a hotel elevator for Dana Ryan. Beautiful and charming, Dana is a breath of fresh air that Gwen is helpless to resist—something she dearly regrets when their whirlwind weekend is over and reality sets back in. The course of true love is notorious for being anything but smooth, but the truths and consequences of an inauspicious beginning such as theirs are enough to put that old adage to the ultimate test.

Print length: 372 pages

You can pre-order your copy now!

US, CA, UK, FR, DE, IT, NL, ES, AU, JP, IN, MX, BR