~ Saturday, September 28 ~
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     It has been quite a while since I regularly posted on this Tumblr, and that’s a damn shame.  It was my constant motivation for small pieces, and I’ve moved into larger things as of late.  The first draft of a novel, the near first draft of another, and the longest running poem I’ve ever touched.  The reading has been endless.
     I know what you’ll say; “Quality over quantity, Joel.  Please do get over yourself!”
     But I’m not here to boast about anything, as I have nothing to boast over.  I only want to post pages two and seven (it prints and folds) of this week’s Newfangled - a project that has quickly become my life’s preoccupation.  I can’t count the hours I spend on this thing, and I feel like I should post tastes of my big project here on Tumblr, if it is such that my small projects have been put on hold.
     This is me writing to Roxanna, I think.  You’re the only one who reads these things, and I miss you a lot.  I know I fall off the map a lot, but I hope you believe me when I say it’s because I’m throwing my life into silly things like this.  If there’s any excuse for being so terribly flimsy, it’s because I’m tooth-and-nail somewhere else, where I can’t see the world around me.
I’ll quit being naive, and maybe grab some sleep.
Joel

     It has been quite a while since I regularly posted on this Tumblr, and that’s a damn shame.  It was my constant motivation for small pieces, and I’ve moved into larger things as of late.  The first draft of a novel, the near first draft of another, and the longest running poem I’ve ever touched.  The reading has been endless.

     I know what you’ll say; “Quality over quantity, Joel.  Please do get over yourself!”

     But I’m not here to boast about anything, as I have nothing to boast over.  I only want to post pages two and seven (it prints and folds) of this week’s Newfangled - a project that has quickly become my life’s preoccupation.  I can’t count the hours I spend on this thing, and I feel like I should post tastes of my big project here on Tumblr, if it is such that my small projects have been put on hold.

     This is me writing to Roxanna, I think.  You’re the only one who reads these things, and I miss you a lot.  I know I fall off the map a lot, but I hope you believe me when I say it’s because I’m throwing my life into silly things like this.  If there’s any excuse for being so terribly flimsy, it’s because I’m tooth-and-nail somewhere else, where I can’t see the world around me.

I’ll quit being naive, and maybe grab some sleep.

Joel

Tags: Publishing Lit creative writing
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~ Saturday, June 22 ~
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Tags: Poetry
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~ Tuesday, May 28 ~
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i promised

That I would check my messages and get back to you, but the world is crumbling! But I take my promises seriously so I waned to say hello and when my internet exists I will get back to you!


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~ Wednesday, April 17 ~
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Joel W. Vaughan, 2013. Artwork by Monro S. Orr, 1908.  Please send feedback, I’d love to hear what you think!

Tags: Beowulf Fiction Slash Romance Writing Spilled Ink Lit Long Reads Joel Vaughan Books Prose
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~ Tuesday, April 16 ~
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The Lion’s Lambchop, Joel W. Vaughan. (2013)

Forgive me in advance if I’ve made some mistake with Meyer’s canon.  This was written as a challenge, and it’s really been some time since I’ve touched the first book of the Twilight series.  Enjoy anyways, and please let me know what you think.

Tags: Twilight Fan Fiction Writing Long Reads Lit Spilled Ink Joel Vaughan Stephanie Meyer
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~ Wednesday, March 27 ~
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I was born me without being consulted

I will die as me without another option

I’ll never be anyone else, nor will I know what it’s like to not “be”

And I’m not sure how I should feel about that.

Tags: Poetry Notes Personal
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~ Friday, March 22 ~
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There are too many interesting people walking all around me, on business of their own.  They seem perfectly content to just go on being interesting, but I’d wish they’d stop and chat.

Tags: Personal Notes
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~ Monday, March 11 ~
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I hate this idea that we can tell each other “you’re beautiful” en masse, and the recipient is supposed to feel inspired or connected.  Even if we ignore the fact that you just told rapists and neo-nazis that they are beautiful, it still stands that you’ve inflated the value of being “beautiful” to the point of worthlessness.  If everyone’s beautiful, it’s not even a compliment anymore.

And also, it’s just impersonal.

Tags: Notes Personal Prose Writing
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~ Thursday, February 28 ~
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When it snowed heavy, she’d wear her itchiest socks - the ones who pricked at her ankles like mosquito bites and let her pretend it was summer.

Tags: Notes Prose Writing Spilled Ink
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~ Tuesday, February 26 ~
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When the furnace shuts off, you get a taste of dying

You know the feeling you get when you’ve been listening to the same white noise for so long that you don’t realize it’s there anymore, and then suddenly it stops - like your only knowledge of something appears in its lack of experience?

In these moments, I like to imagine that this is the closest I can come to experiencing death, as silly as that sounds.  The only way I can experience a complete lack of experience is to do it one sense at a time - it would be like seeing what you see what there’s nothing at all, or feeling a lack of texture.  It doesn’t seem all that bad.

But it’s the lead up that kills me, and the idea that my loved ones don’t blink out of existence when I do.  I’m afraid that dying might be the easiest part of death.

Tags: Notes Prose Writing Spilled Ink
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