the secret to a successful nanowrimo is porn. lots of it.
As I’ve said before, I’ve never been the type of person who creates an outline and a plot.
I’ve been plotting like a madwoman. Pages and pages of plot bunnies. It’s insane.
Who knew writing a hockey au would actually be enjoyable?
We all know my history with hockey and how the last experience absolutely fucking broke me. (Still broken after all these years, thanks. Vegas put a nice band-aid on my boo-boo, though.)
So… it’s been weird to actually dig into things like the NHL’s Collective Bargaining Agreement and the Rule Book.
To remember things I thought I’d forgotten.
A skate blade to the back, the severed pinky, the slapshot to the nuts (the player was NOT wearing a cup… but that’s a story for another day.), the singing on the bus, Cooperstown, the dentist fixing a broken nose, the Stanley Cup, the octopus… that fucking mascot.
Reading all these stupid hockey romances has reminded me what it’s like to be part of the team, not part of the back office.
And THAT is where my love of the sport truly lives.
In the camaraderie of the players. Not the knowledge of how to write the Salary Cap journal entries.
I almost watched a Bruins game the other night.
Almost.
But before I could change the channel, I had a panic attack and decided it was safer to watch Simmers on YouTube.
I’ll get back to being able to watch the games and probably sooner rather than later.
But in the meantime, I’ve noticed some other things that are changing.
- The hubby took care of Guinness, not me. And G wasn’t a cuddle pup. He was sort of detached, aloof. I take care of the kittens and they are not like that at all. Sophie is still ridiculously skittish, but holy shit. When she wants love, she will NOT be denied. I need Sophie lovin’ more than I would have thought possible. Finn’s, too, although he’s grown way more independent.
- I’ve been listening to Bowie and the Stones. A LOT. I’ve struggled with their music in the past because they remind me of people who ripped me apart and then stomped on the pieces. Somehow, I’ve managed to get past that. Although, I do not recommend singing Star Star at work because it is very NSFW... whoops.
OH! Fun fact: R.E.M.‘s “Star Me Kitten” is named Star Me Kitten because of “Star Star”. Another fun fact: It is one of the very few R.E.M. songs that uses the word fuck.
- I’ve also been listening to a playlist I call BLG. BLG are the initials of the one, the only, Soulmate Boy and it’s all music I associate with him. Some of it is great for running and, I don’t know, kind of… comforting? Yeah, that’s the word I keep coming back to.
- I’m becoming less afraid to go places on my own. This became a HUGE issue after moving to Florida and then having the whole pandemic thing happen. I certainly don’t have the kind of life I had in New England, and I fucking miss it, but I’m trying to make a life here. Finally.
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And for something completely unrelated, I finally got my two breathing tests done AND scored a follow-up with the pulmonologist before Wine and Dine. (I couldn’t get an appointment with the doc until DECEMBER. I lucked out when there was a cancellation for next week.)
I failed. Miserably.
So, exercise-induced asthma is real and not in my head.
That actually makes me feel better.
I have an inhaler, but it’s not working for me. The therapist who did the test thinks I’ll respond better to steroids, but didn’t go into more details. Google’s not telling me much, so I’m excited to have the follow up so soon. Nothing new on race day… except asthma meds. Should be an interesting weekend.
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I also saw Антитіла on Wednesday.
So. Fucking. AMAZING.
It was everything I wanted and more. I had chills and tears. The first and only time I ever got emotional at a concert was Paul Simon, so that should tell you something.
I really hope I get to see them again.
KALUSH is up next and then, in February, it’s SKOFKA… who I only know because of the collabs with KALUSH.
I’m trying to see as many Ukrainian shows as possible so, even if I’m lukewarm on the artist, I’ll go.
I get to support Ukrainians and experience live music. It’s a win-win, even though I hate the fact that they’re on tour fundraising for shit like first aid supplies.
And on that note, I need to go research some more hockey things. November 1st is coming way too fast.
I wouldn’t say she’s a slut, but her favourite shade of lipstick is penis. - Kristen Proby
October 10, 2023 ::
7:55 PM
I could have written this scene, but I didn’t. Elle Kennedy beat me to it.
I’m still on my mission to read EVERY. SINGLE. hockey romance out there.
FUUUUUUUUCK. There are a lot of them.
I’ve been trying to focus on the MM ones, but every once in a while, I’ll read a MF one. As a palate cleanser.
Because even this girl can’t take that much dick 24/7/365.
Well.
That didn’t come out quite right.
(In case you couldn’t guess it, I’m all about the dicks tonight. (AGAIN!) I blame Elle Kennedy. I just finished her book The Deal and it was so well written. Not the hockey stuff, because it never is, but I flat out fucking DIED when I got to the part about the penises.)
Story time, kids!
A thousand years ago, in a much different lifetime, I got a part-time job working for the Men’s Ice Hockey team at my college.
True story - Coach told me he had had a problem with the former Team Manager keeping her legs shut. He most definitely couldn’t get away with saying it now, but I appreciated how honest he was. Fucking the players would get me fired. Period. And there was no way I was losing out on (what was then) the job of a lifetime because he thought I was easy.
Alternatively, as Vaddo once told me, in typical Vaddo fashion, “Dobbsey was a vending machine. You could get whatever you wanted from her.”
So.
I told Coach that I liked girls.
I’m pretty sure we both knew I was lying, but I made a point to act like the last thing I cared about was the boys.
Of course, lines were blurred from time to time over the two seasons I worked for the team - sometimes, I don’t think any of us knew what my job was.
I would patrol the hotel halls on road trips to make sure the guys weren’t getting ‘spice’ after curfew. (Oh, dear god, was there a lot of post-curfew spice after that one game at Bowdoin. Like there was an ENTIRE spice rack in the hotel that night.)
I was the target of their pranks. The little sister they wanted to protect. The girl who would often rescue players from the more obnoxious puck fucks.
(No, dude. You don’t understand. You can call them puck bunnies all you want, but if the girls weren’t spice, they were puck fucks. It’s an important distinction.)
I had a few beers ‘spilled’ on me. I drove more than one player home after a night at Huskies.
I was the one that players would confide in.
I was even the one who took A FUCKING SNAKE home over Christmas because it couldn’t go home with the player and he didn’t want the snake to be alone in the dorm. (Thank fuck I didn’t have to feed it over break. It was bad enough being in the boys’ room the one day they did feed it. I will never be able to unsee the snake swallowing the mouse, nor the mouse sized lump inside the snake.)
At that point, UConn was still playing in an OUTDOOR ice rink.
Yeah.
We had a small warming hut and two locker rooms. There was ONE restroom in the warming hut. ONE.
Needless to say, if the boys had to piss, they weren’t doing it in the restroom.
Nope. They used the garbage can in the center of the locker room.
Ask me how I know.
Go ahead.
I dare you.
Let’s set the scene:
It’s the first home game of the season and your girl Wendell Gee has absolutely no fucking idea what she has gotten herself into.
Home games are different from practices are different from hanging out in the hockey office… I thought I knew those boys. I didn’t think there was much left that could shock me.
I. Was. Wrong.
So.
Very.
Wrong.
Here I am. It’s the first home game with my boys, we’re between periods, and I’ve been told to get something and bring it to the locker room.
Not a single thought went through my head except to get the thing and give it to Coach.
In retrospect, I’m pretty sure it was a test.
Fuck pretty sure.
It was definitely a test.
Because when I walked in, Coach was nowhere to be seen, but
OH MY GOD.
THE PENISES WERE EVERYWHERE.
EVERY! SINGLE! PLAYER! HAD DECIDED TO DROP TROU AND LET THEIR PENIS CATCH THE BREEZE.
THAT WAS A LOT OF FUCKING PENIS TO BE PRESENTED WITH.
I caught sight of the two captains using the garbage can as a urinal first and then I looked around the room slowly.
I could tell I had their undivided attention as I bounced from penis to penis.
(Oh god, I didn’t mean that literally.)
I think it might have been Captain Douchey McDoucheface who shook himself off and asked me if I liked what I saw.
I believe my exact words were “Mine is bigger.”
(It’s amazing how much your relationship with a guy (or 28 of them) changes once you let them know that you’re not impressed by their snack size weenie…)
The Center for Reproductive Rights is a global human rights organization of lawyers and advocates who ensure reproductive rights are protected in law as fundamental human rights for the dignity, equality, health, and well-being of every person.
We envision a world where every person participates with dignity as an equal member of society, regardless of gender.
Where every woman is free to decide whether or when to have children and whether to get married; where access to quality reproductive health care is guaranteed; and where every woman can make these decisions free from coercion or discrimination.
So. Yeah.
I’ve never before tried to fundraise here and I’ve been more careful about posting my real name and photos of my face here. I suppose I should just go back and edit old entries, but I don’t care. If you really want to go THAT far back, well, you deserve a medal. Or maybe a stiff drink? A lobotomy? Maybe a pony?
Anyhoo.. my team name is OfFRC (FRC is my running club’s name.) and you can donate on the team’s page. If you want to, you could donate to me as well, if you know how to find me. My avatar is currently the same as my FB profile picture.
Also, there is a girl on my team with a very similar first name and my last initial. That is not me. If you click on me, you’ll see my full name.
If linking to the fundraiser outs me, then so be it.
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I just tried to log into my Wendell Gee gmail account with the user name WendellGrr1985.
Dude.
I’m not even angry at anything right now.
Except, maybe, my writer’s brain.
The words, they will not come.
I have all kinds of world building done and I’ve sketched out some bits, but actually writing the story is kicking my ass. I’m like a paragraph into the actual story and…nothing.
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I guess since I started talking about running, I might as well finish by talking about running.
Intervals.
I know I talked about them before, but I tried again last night.
I walked for about 8 minutes of the first mile because I couldn’t get the damn interval timer to work and then I started. I used 15 sec run and 45 sec walk as I didn’t feel like killing myself with a 30/30 - I’ve not felt well this week at all. Bunch of causes. No cures.
I did a mile at 15 sec run / 45 sec walk. I ran at 4.0 mph (15 minute mile) and walked at 3.3 mph (18 minute mile). I ended up averaging a 17 minute mile. A mile slower than Disney requires - and I am NOT interested in crossing paths with the balloon ladies in November.
For the last mile, I upped it to 15/45 with a 4.3 mph run (14 minute mile) and stayed with the 3.3 mph walk. I averaged a 16:42 mile.
I understand the underlying math and physics behind intervals, but I didn’t feel like I was moving faster. As a whole, I had one of my slower 5Ks ever, but I couldn’t walk at full speed while I was fucking with the app.
It’s amazing to see how they work.
I’ll be hopping on the treadmill soon - I’m waiting for The Ick to pass and then I’m going to attempt a 10K with intervals. I’ll probably stick to the 15/45 ratio at 4.0/3.5 (17 minute mile) for most of it. Maybe I’ll bump it to 4.5/3.5 for the second 5K. I always manage to finish with negative splits. It just takes me FOREVER to get going.
For future me: pace tables found here and run-walk calculator found here .
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I’m not sure what does it for me - thinking about the Kozak dancing in the video (because OMG it cracks me up!) or the beat - but it is one of my favourite songs to run to.
You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.
September 04, 2023 ::
9:36 AM
I certainly don’t write for the money.
In case you were wondering, the 2012-2022 NHL CBA is 540 pages of the driest legalese to ever exist.
I don’t even know how I got a copy of it, other than the fact that I worked in the NHL. There’s no real reason for me to have it, but I’m glad I do.
I make no secret of the fact that I write a lot of M/M fan fiction or read a lot of it.
Seriously, my Kindle Unlimited account history bounces between horror and gay fiction. I tried joining two different book clubs… I figure life is hard enough; why suffer through a book club’s suggestions? Read a biography? Why? Nobody interests me that much.
Anyhoo… professional writers will say that you need to read a ton to be able to write better. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’ve always been a reader. Maybe that’s why I love to write. I write the stories I want to read. The ones that only exist in my head. Do I ever finish them? Rarely, but the writing is what’s important. Even if I have six WIPs right now, it feels good to write until I get bored with the plot or stuck because my characters don’t play nice.
Wow. That went in a completely different direction.
Let’s try this again:
I make no secret of the fact that I write a lot of M/M fan fiction or read a lot of it.
Seriously, my Kindle Unlimited account history bounces between horror and gay fiction. “Professional” writers will say that you need to read a ton to be able to write better.
So.
For whatever reason, there’s a TON of hockey romances being written. Gay fiction is not immune to this phenomenon, and well… I’m in the middle of a quest to read EVERY. SINGLE. BOOK. in this very specific sub-genre. (Sub-sub-genre? Whatever.)
Which brings me full circle to the CBA.
I hate world building. HATE IT. It’s the main reason I love fan fiction. Unless it’s an AU, there’s no reason for it.
Everyone who would read Harry Potter fan fic knows the stories, either from the movies or the books.
Everyone who would read Teen Wolf fan fic is probably familiar with the MTV show (not the 1980s movie. Oh, fuck, no.) - except for me. I had NO idea what I was getting into when I followed some random tag on AO3 and wound up reading Sciles. (YUK!). There was a deep dive into the show and yeah, I did it ass backwards, but I quickly fell in love with Sterek, Steter, Stetopher. (OK. So I’m obsessed with Stiles. What about it?)
Taking Harry Potter out of Hogwarts and putting him in a non-magical, hockey, universe seems relatively simple. He and Draco are on separate teams, they hook up over the All-Star break, then they hook up every time they play each other… smexy times happen, and then they wind up on the same team, and not so smexy stuff happens before the guaranteed HEA.
Except.
I can’t write the same sort of hockey fic the others write - where they gloss over the world because people have a basic understanding of pro sports. Some of them write beautiful descriptions of the game, but leave out everything and anything that helps show the true behind the scenes life of a hockey team.
I’ve worked in Community Relations, worked on the arena management side, and worked in an accounting department for both an arena and a team.
I understand entry level contracts and the salary cap. I understand the fear of being traded after making a city your home. I understand the pressure of winning a Cup.
I understand players and the game in a way that the other authors don’t.
And it’s leading me to get bogged down in world building.
I know it’s worth it, because it’s what I feel is missing every time I read one of the hockey books. (See? I write what I want to read.)
I’ve got team names, mascots, schedules, QMJHL / OHL teams, prep schools and colleges… I’m working on the NHL Draft and teammates right now.
I’ve got Harry being from Roxbury, a sort of rough Boston suburb. He’s poor, living with the Dursley’s and generally looking to escape - just like the ‘real’ Harry. Draco, on the other hand, is rich and privileged, and also looking to escape.
It’s important to me that people know how the Draft actually works and what an entry level contract looks like. What being bounced between the minors and the NHL looks like because that’s Harry’s path through the world of the NHL. A lot of those things will inform his decisions and make him the person he becomes. (Much like learning magic and facing down Voldemort every year forced him to become Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World.)
Writing something this detailed is so outside my comfort zone that I’m actually kind of enjoying it. I do need to plot the fuck out of it, though. Otherwise, nothing would make sense and I’m writing the same kind of ‘they meet, fall in love, become afraid to come out, love conquers all’ bulllshit I’m currently reading. (Yeah. I said bullshit. I’m trying to find that unicorn in all the gay hockey fiction… but we all know unicorns don’t exist. Won’t stop me from reading every single book, though.)
I’m also fighting the point of view issue.
In one of my HP fan fic groups, there was a HUGE discussion over POV in fics. Apparently, they have to be 3rd person limited since that’s how JKR wrote the story. (Fun fact, the first chapter of the first book - Philosopher’s Stone, thank you very much - is actually 3rd person omniscient; it’s a quick and dirty bit of world building, but as effective as anything I’ve ever come across.)
I like writing in 1st person, 3rd person omniscient when the mood strikes, but I can’t figure out how to tell this particular story. Do I write it strictly from Harry’s POV? Do I sprinkle in a little Malfoy? Does Harry tell his story in his own words or is it told from a distance?
I’m leaning towards 3rd person limited, because reasons, but it feels too limited to me. (HA!!!!)
I don’t know.
I sat down to write this entry thinking it would help me figure shit out, but now I’m more unsettled than before.
Oh well.
Maybe I’ll work on some Ukrainian stuff and maybe the website I started like a month ago and let this stuff get worked through subconsciously?
You can force the girl out of hockey, but you can’t take the hockey from the girl
Oh.
My.
God.
What have I just done?!?
So a little while ago, I had posted that I was going to write a piece of original fiction (het, no less!) in response to all the hockey books I’ve been reading.
The fact that my female MC is aro/ace has completely thrown me for a loop. I have no idea how to write her. At all.
I even purchased some books and joined some FB groups, hoping that would help.
Nope.
I’m more confused than ever.
Jump to last night - in one of my Drarry groups, a girl mentioned how she hated the words “entrance” and “member”, and wanted to know if we had any pet peeves / problems with certain words.
I said that I was OK with hole and entrance because, no matter where, it’s a receptacle and meant to receive. I have more issues with descriptions for the things being received. Like man (something) as in, “He poked his big man stick into her tiny tunnel.”
And that one sentence just… just… created all kinds of fucking chaos.
So, apparently, I’m now writing a Drarry hockey AU.
