Production Crazy

Hey guys,
So I've been working on a lot of movies and also not working on movies. Today I am working on the set of a short film called 'Cupid' as a make up artist so my job ended a while ago. I dab the actress every now and then with a tissue and the set continues.
I like working on different sets as various positions because I learn so much a out what it's like to be treated as each role by the director and crew. Of course it's also nice to lay back and watch how everyone else treats each other.
I'm a director so treatment amongst the cast and crew is essential for me. If someone (especially the talent) is t happy, then neither am I. Not always a good tactic but, hey, I'm learning.
I don't have very many pictures from the production today but I have some from the feature film I am working on in Petaluma. It is a horror film about a teenage who is bullied all of the time and after a prank goes too far she gets revenge on the girls who played the prank. The movie is called 'Miserable Marnie and the Shut In'. The cast and crew are great and I have a lot of fun on the set, there's always something to do. And I also met a new friend who has a very similar vision as I do for a script that I wrote at the beginning of this year. It's in a working title mode but it is called 'April and Junip' for now.
It's about teenage girls who are BFF in a small town and visit the local dump everyday. One of these days they find a trunk full of journals written by a girl in the 1980s. They start to realize that their lives aren't as monotonous as they thought, and actually pretty cool.
We're in pre production right now and will be shooting in early July, so keep your eyes peeled for more!!! I will report on more productions as time goes on. I feel like its a really great way to learn film making online since working with people is not something you learn very easily. God, I'm such a manners bitch haha
Welcome!!!

Momma - A Short Fictional Story

My momma was one of them southern ladies you'd get introduced to first thing at the salon while blue haired elderly women and married christian ladies sat in a blow dryer chair, flipping through magazines  and talkin' on about this weeks gossip in town. 

"Did you hear the latest on Mrs. Rose Sinclair? Or should I say Ms. Rose Sinclair?" The christian women raise an eyebrow.

"I heard her husband took five minutes to pack up one bag. He threw it over his shoulder in the middle of the night, and just left," The elderly woman snaps her fingers, " like that. Didn't say nothing'. An' on top of that, he left the kids sleeping. Didn't kiss em' or nothin"

The hair dresser smacks his lips as he's teasing her hair. "Now, you don't know nothing like that." 

"I do"

One of the christian women would lean in "Where you hear that from Sue?"

"Why, the whole town's talkin' bout it" Sue goes back to her magazine. "Shoot, I thought ya'll would have heard it too"

The whole town was always talkin bout my momma. My momma, my grandmomma, me, my brother Buddy and my lil sister Tootie. We was like radio celebrities, everyone knew who we were, what we been doin' , where we'd been, and all the little details my momma tried so hard to hide. 

I was 15 when we lived in Fayetteville, it was the day before my birthday when we left Hank in Little Rock. Sure, I missed my friends but I hated Hank more. I was glad to leave. My brother Buddy screamed the whole way over. Sittin in the backseat of our volkswagon, smushed between a stack of boxes and Tootie yelling cause she needs to go to the bathroom. 

The July heat in the afternoon would cook you like a bug under a magnifine glass. The windows rolled down, we didn't have any air conditioning only some torn up paper fans we took from church. Within 20 minutes of the drive the kids were asleep and then momma would start.

"Now look, I know you wanna scream in my face 'I told you so'. But instead of doin' that, why don't you just be an adult about it and we can just move on?" If she only knew how happy I was to be gone, she wouldn't need to say nothing. " For the first week or so I'm gonna have to keep you home before putting you school. Grandmomma needs some help getting back on her feet and so do we." Momma used to smack her gum, and when she felt guilty or didn't wanna tell you something she'd suck on it, like she was enjoying the flavor before it's gone. She'd take it out of her mouth and stick it to one of the empty soda pop cans in the drink holder. "We scratch her back, she scratches ours. You scratch mine, I'll scratch yours. It's the way the world works, sweet pea."

The kids were still asleep when we pulled up to grandmomma's trailer. I woke Buddy up and he went whining to the front door after momma. I went to the other side, unbuckled Tootie and picked her up into my arms. When I turned around momma, grandmomma and Buddy were already inside. Momma always knew how to make me feel welcome. 

The three of us children stayed in a room together. The first night Buddy slept on the floor while Tootie and I stayed in the cot grandmomma made for us in the corner next to the window. Everyone was asleep, but it felt like christmas eve to me. I couldn't wait to wake up the next day to live my new life in Fayetteville. I pulled back the curtain as little dust bunnies started to snow above my head and i got an idea of what kind of back scratching' I'll be doing.

Over the next few weeks I still didn't go to school. Instead I fixed the house up, took the kids to school, made breakfast lunch and dinner, and took care of grandmomma while she chain-smoked and watched soap operas in between tanning appointments and trips to the salon to see her gals. Momma started working at the diner in town 5 nights a week. She was doin so good over there she said I might be able to get back to school soon. 

One night I was heating up some chicken fingers and french fries when momma snuck in through the front door and into her room. I think she was trying to get past me without me noticing, but I did.

"Momma, I'm makin chicken! You want some?"

She didn't bother comin in, she just hollered from her room "Nah, that's alright sweet pea. I'm not hungry right now. I ate a bit at the diner"

"Alright well, I'm not cookin anymore tonight. You want me to save you some?"

"I'm okay, hun!"

I put a few extra fries in the microwave and a handful of nuggets in the oven. 

I struggled to get Buddy to leave his sister alone and let Tootie eat her own food while grandmomma smacked his hand every time her pot would boil.

"Leave your sister alone and for god's sake, chew with your mouth closed!"

 It was a normal dinner without momma. When every one was done granmomma left to go to Ernie's and the kids watched cartoons while I cleared the table. I could smell my momma's sunflower perfume before she walked into the room. 

"What do you think? Mommas still got it?"

I turned around to my mother draped in clinging chiffon fabric hugging at her thighs and a low neck line exposing her top parts. Her hair was done up to the sky with little rhinestone earrings decorating her face. And boy, she had on eyeshadow and she done rouge up her cheeks. 

"You look beautiful Momma!" Tootie comes running into the kitchen.

"Go sit back down and watch TV." I couldn't help but get a little frustrated at Tootie, but I find a way to win her back "If you do, I got some ice cream for you."

She squealed back to the couch just to sit through a commercial while I had it out with momma. 

"We are not gone for one month and you are already going on a date? What are you thinking?"

Momma stood calmly in front of me and hooked her eye in such a way that would make my heart curl with anticipation. She never seemed so evil to me as when she looked at me with the power of her title, 'Momma'.

"Miss. Cheyenne. Now, who do you think you are?" Her breath smelled like cigarettes and mint as she chewed her words in my face. There wasn't nothing I could do with her. She wouldn't listen to a god damn thing I would say. 

"Get out of my way, before I slap you so hard you don't recognize yourself" I fought back a waterfall of tears and unclenched my fist to wipe the sweat off on my jeans. There wasn't nothing I could do with her. I just got out of her way. And she done pushed me even more just 'cause. 

I stayed awake all night till momma got back home and couldn't go back to sleep cause she and her date were still having a good time in her room. I met him the next morning when he came into the kitchen while momma was still asleep. The kids were watching saturday morning tv and eating pancakes like zombies nibbling at flesh, pieces just sliding from their mouths and on to their laps. 

"Can I get one of those there, darlin'?" He pointed at the flapjacks behind me.

"Sure" I nudged my head towards the plate, "get it yourself"

He chuckled and slivered to get himself one, two, three. "You got any maple?"

I did, but it was in the fridge and I ain't doing no favors for him "No"

"You must be Cheyenne. Your momma says you got a bit of an attitude." He sat down, folded up his pancakes into rolls and shoved them into his gaping hole of a mouth. I cringed my lips and wrinkled my nose. Got another child with no manners. 

"Well that's nice, I didn't hear nothing 'bout you." I threw a fork on the table for him.

"My name's Tom. I'm a friend of your momma's." He had the nerve to ignore my gesture of giving him a fork and just continues to cram the food down his throat. "We been seeing each other a while now. She thinks I could be good enough to be your daddy" 

I thought about him being there for every meal, chewing with his mouth wide open. I thought about the extra load of laundry and my having to fold his under roos. I thought about his being there all the time to keep momma in a happily distracted state of mind. 

I sauntered over to him, gently picked up his plate, wound up and threw it against the wall. Tootie starts screaming like her little 4 year old self and Buddy shouts newly learned profanity. 

"What the hell? Are you crazy, bitch?" My 'new daddy' yells. His voice strangling my hearing. Momma runs in with nothing on but a pink silk robe that she's tying up. 

"What is going on out here? Cheyenne Lindsay Leigh Sinclair, what in God's name are you thinking?"

I ran away. I ran right out the door, ran down the street, ran all across town. Barefoot, I didn't care. I made it to the salon where my grandmomma was at. I sat with her while she got her nails done and talked about Trudy Evelgate's new affair with her mailman. I didn't say nothin', it was nice hearing about someone who wasn't momma.

When we got back Tom was still there, and he didn't leave for 2 more years. Not until he figured out that my momma was crazy. The kind of crazy you'd only find figure out if you lived with them. 

Sure enough in two weeks time we were off again. Momma couldn't handle being in the same place as Tom with the same memories of him, left to only think of him everywhere she turns, blah blah blah. 

I sat in the front of the car with the windows rolled down. Buddy screaming in the back, Tootie and her now controllable blatter, yet uncontrollable hunger. No air conditioner only torn up fans from the church. Within 20 minutes time, the kids fall asleep and momma starts.

Santa Cruz Trip

Brian and I took a random trip to Santa Cruz on a random sunny day that lasted till about 3 pm hence why we escaped foggy San Francisco to cruise the Santa Cruz boardwalk.
Enjoy :)
Elektra

Sewing Again!

I've been super inspired lately to make clothes. Maybe it's that thing in me that needs to move on to something new every two seconds but it could also be because I haven't been sewing in about six months.
Today I buckled down and came up with a new simple sixties inspired design. I used the galaxy fabric that I love so much. This is just a template for the new designs to come but it was fun to come up with a little something in the few hours I had off from class and school.
Spring is coming and summer is going to to be filled with some more no slow jams sixties inspired sundresses! Here are some things for now.
Enjoy:)
Elektra

Some styles I threw together before school.

Because school is my life right now.

In desperate need of a vacation.

Or at least a day to sleep in. Haven't had time to post much but I've just discovered the blogger app so I'm hoping to post more often from here on out. Lets start now!
In the meantime how had your month been?

My Mary- A Short Story

        I locked the front door, all three locks, the backdoor, the windows, the garage, the door to the garage, and the gate that leads to the garden. I got a telegram from Mary's head doctor at the sanitarium about an hour ago. Susan should be home any minute now, the best thing to do is wait by the front door and peak through the drapes every other moment to make sure she makes it in safely. I am assuming she has had an extended day at the factory, she's usually there for a 10 hour shift, but sometimes she has to stay longer to the hem the shirts that weren't finished in the day's work. At least, I hope they are keeping her there longer. Which would give me more time to turn Mary in if she dares to come back.

      She's been locked away for almost three years now. Three years to a schizophrenic round out to feel like 10. I can't imagine the trickery she's thought of in the amount of time to find me to place revenge. We had been married for 13 years, I filed for divorce when I came home one evening to blood strewn in drips about the living room, smears against the walls our 8 month old son sitting in the middle of the carpet screaming with a bloody nose. Mary was passed out on the couch with a bottle of vodka dangling from her hands. Later on when I started to pack her belongings for the hospital I found an opium pipe, which was safe to conclude was something she had been regularly using.

         I had my sister pick Earnest, my son, to bring him to our parent's house.She has just left after I walked her to the car. I gave my son a kiss on the forehead and told him I loved him like I never had said it before. In return he told me he was going to eat candy at Nana's and Pop Pop's, I said it was fine. But only this one time. It's difficult to arrange a stable, disciplined household for a little boy with a smile like his, if it weren't for Susan he would get everything he ever wanted in the world.

         Mary knows that I am remarried now, but I don't think she is aware of it. Like a fantasy story told to her as she drifts into sleep, a story she eventually forgets the next morning. Mary and I met at a small brasserie in Paris. We were both there for the war, I was an engineer for the brute tanks that intimidated the Germans. She was a petite firecracker, singing and dancing for the troops, occasionally letting a thigh slip out from underneath her petticoat as she bit her lip and graced her breast with a snow white glove. I thought of Shakespeare when I saw this for the first time "Oh how I would like to be that glove". But after a few years of her flirtatious behavior, that glove, that lip and that thigh, I realized would never be mine. Instead I shared it with half of the men of Paris and California when we later moved back home, just as I did the first time I had laid eyes on her.

        It never crossed my mind that she would be trouble.My mother hated her and my sister couldn't bear to be in the same room as her, but I was assured that there was something that they were refusing to see in her. At one point I accused my mother of being jealous of Mary. Oh boy, that did not go over well.

        When I had Mary put in the hospital, it was not only for my own good, or the well being of my son, but because I was in love with Mary. I'm still in love with the Mary I once met and Susan knows this. This is one of the only reasons why we argue, with everything else, we get along peachy. I honestly thought Mary would get better over her time at the sanitarium. Though her electro-shock therapy has shown no progress. She was visited by Walter Freeman a year ago to conduct a lobotomy that only gave Mary the impression that she was God. Now she is on the lose. Penniless, even if she had money I would imagine that she would have no pockets to put it in if she escaped in her patients uniform. She had no place to go, her parents has disowned her when she put herself in the entertainment industry. Her sister is a nun that claims to be a sister to no one else but God. Which could be Mary's reasoning for embodying Christ in order to win her sister back. 

The sad thing is, even though all the doors are locked, as soon as I see Mary's stark indian eyes staring at me from the porch the locked will turn unhinged. I could never turn Mary away. Always in the back of my head I know one day she will get better and possibly she will turn back into the old Mary that I used to love, the Mary that loved me back. Even if I did have to share her, I would be content knowing that the pillow next to mine is where she would chose to rest her head, and if I'm lucky I could somehow swindle my arms around her and grace her soft porcelain breast.

         God knows that when Mary shows up to my door I will swing open the door and embrace her as if my Mary had come back from the dead. Luckily I don't have to succumb to my vice. I waited by the door the entire evening. When Susan came home I didn't tell her about Mary's escape. Instead I ate dinner on the couch and told her it was because I waned to listen to the radio, although the last thing I wanted to do was distract myself with famous vocalists singing renditions of old Gershwin songs.

          Mary never showed up. It's been a week now and she hasn't even tried to contact me. Perhaps she's really gone this time, the doctors can't seem to find her, I've put out a missing persons report which has no leads. Knowing Mary she most likely met a man that fell for her charm and collapsed into loving her. Another shmuck like me. Susan will happy about this news. From here on I can possibly sleep a night without thinking of my Mary. Possibly.

Tom Boucher- A Short Story

"Honey, quick question. Do you know where we keep the windex?" Tom says as he peeks his head through the door.

"Did you try under the sink?" Claire keeps her eyes on the detailed quilt she is making for the couple's new arrival. 

"Why would it be there?"

The motor of the sewing machine comes to a halt.

Claire frumps her eyebrows  and jolts her head back so Tom can get a good glimpse of her frustrated confusion "Why wouldn't it be there?"

"Okay, I'll check there. Thanks sweetheart." He knows there is no use in fighting about the location of cleaning supplies while his wife is 8 months pregnant with what seemed to a man of 22 years to be purely hormones. The journey of Claire's pregnancy has left out the thought that when the 9 months are over Tom will be a father. Instead he has filled his days with work, school, doctors appointments, trips to the drug store, forgetting something at the drug store and having to go back, the drug store not having mint chocolate chip Dryer's ice cream and only an off brand so he has to go to the gas station to check. Tom spends his nights making sure the dishes are done, the house is clean, the TV isn't too loud, the cat box is changed, keeping up the stamina to stay away from the video games and explaining that it would only be for 5 minutes when caught by Claire. 

When Tom looks in the mirror he no longer sees the young man he used to be a mere 8 months ago but a machine working against the odds of a hormonal pregnancy. 

"Honey" Tom peers through the door again.

"Don't call me 'honey' when I'm frustrated, you know that." 

"I'm sorry-um- Claire. I just didn't see the windex under the sink, do you think we have another spot for it?" 

"Not unless were out." 

"Should I get more? I think I have to go out anyway to get some more pickles and ice cream." 

"Sure. Wait. No. Wait. What are you even using for? What are you doing?" 

"I'm just cleaning up the bathroom a little bit before the baby gets here" Tom tries to throw in a joke. " It's like a port-o-potty in there"

"If it is it's because of you"

Tom, dejected, closes the portal to his sparse interactions for the day. Claire continues to fiddle with her machine, now looping threads an inch over the fabric. 

"God damn it, the tension is all fucked." She turns a knob, flips a switch and finally cuts the thread to relieve the quilt of the foot's hold. Upon opening the door to the bobbin, mounds of dust clouds are caught up in the mechanics. "Fucking fuck." She takes a deep breath to holler "Tom. Tom?"

Rushing footsteps grow loader as he reaches the door and swings it open like a knight in shining armor.

"Are you okay, Honey? Everything alright, do you need something?"

"This fucking machine is all fucked and- do you know where the little blower thingy is?"

"Blower thingy? Blow dryer?"

"No, why the hell would I need that? 'oh no my machine is broken, might as well break out the hair dryer!'. Jeez, you know what I'm talking about the thing for the computer, with the red tube thingy"

"You keep saying 'thingy' as if it-"

"Damn it, Tom. You're not helping. Can you just try to help, please? For once?"

"Okay, I honestly don't know what you're talking about"

Claire takes a deep breath and stares into Toms eyes, clenching her jaw. "The can of air that one uses to blow dust out of a keyboard. Does that help?"

"Oh yeah! The blower thingy!" Claire winces at his reaction as Tom opens a drawer unveil the thingy.

"I can't find it, I must've thrown it out when we moved"

"Really? Are you kidding?" Claire throws her arms out. Claire means this to be confrontational but Tom can only look at the open arms as a memory of a time they were once used to embrace each other. 

"I'm sorry. What do you need it for? maybe I can help?"

"No, I can do it. I don't always need you to do things for me" Claire denies Tom as she turns back to her machine sitting on a vanity desk with a decorative mirror. Tom is left with a grim reflection of his current life in which Claire sits between two machines. He tries to catch a glimpse of eye contact through the mirror with Claire while she tries to pick the clumps of dust out of the bobbin hole with tweezers. She finally notices the bags under Tom's eyes swell and as he release a tear. Claire seems to be void of any thought before thinking.

"What? What's wrong now?" When Tom doesn't answer she turns to face him. "What? Why are you crying? I should be crying! I'm stuck in this house all of the time wondering where you are. Do you know how fucking lonely I am? Do you know what it's like to have all of your friends drop you because you've gained the extra weight of a baby? Do you know what it's like to wonder who you are because you spend your entire life figuring out who somebody else is?" Claire is at the edge of her seat for an answer. "Huh? Do you? No! You have no fucking clue what it's like to be me. I hate this fucking-"

"Shut up!" Tom finally cracks and spills himself onto Claire. "You, HONEY, have no idea how much time, money, energy, love and caring I spend on only you. I am so fucking lonely. I don't know what it's like to have my friends drop me, but I do know what it's like to have to drop all of my friends because you made me do it when we first moved in together. You said I couldn't have Adam be my best man at our wedding. We have been blood brothers since grade school, he couldn't even come!"

"Oh my god, Tom. Adam is an idiot he would have come drunk, got everyone coked out and probably would have made an awkward toast and then try to make out with my mom" 

"Claire, you can be such a bitch sometimes. He's nothing like that you're over-"

"I'm a what? I'm a what? A bitch? Well you know what Tom? Fine, I'm leaving!" Claire jumps up to pack a petty hand purse. 

Tom quickly jumps back onto his tightrope. 

"Claire, no I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. Look" Tom tries to mold Claire's hand into his. "Claire, listen. I'm sorry. I love you. I don't want you to be lonely. It's my fault. I didn't mean to" Claire snatches her hand away and continues to pack. Tom pounces back with another approach " Please, Claire. I'll do anything. Tell me. You can't leave- I need you." Claire gives up and begins to bawl. 

"I just wanted to finish this fucking blanket before the baby came." Tom wraps his hand around her head to bring her closer and envelopes her with the other. Tom brings his voice down as if he were talking to a child. 

"Shhhh. It'll get done. I promise." He begins to stroke her raven black hair." I hired some little mice and birds to come and finish it for you're too busy making a baby with your body" He feels a little puff of warm air on his forearm. He begins to smile just knowing he still could make her laugh, let alone that her arms were again being used to hug him back.  

Going to Write a Zine!

Trying to think up a way to design a diary-like zine isn't easy to do. Without a definite plot, the story runs amuck. Which is life at it's best. I guess the only things I have to look forward to are the retellings of what I find funny, inspiring, interesting and unique about life, and my own in particular. I have been a lazy fool for far too long, although to think of one's past in this way is ..great I think. To think that you were always perfect and at your best there is no where to lead to, besides keeping the balance of this perfection. 

I am blessed with an unfathomable amount of regret, mistakes and miseries to work with. I know how to better avoid them and I know personally of the outcome and symptoms. It's been 3 years that I have attended college in personal pursuits, rather than social and professional , after 5 years of avoiding the fact that I had been kicked out of high school and had nothing of an education under my belt. 

This was a shock to myself that I had been holding this off for so long. I have always in nature been a "go for it all" kind of girl. I liked to do homework, I didn't mind reading books when I was younger. I read at a slower pace and therefore felt stupider tempting the fate of an inner Billy Madison to shout out "ta-ta-ta-ta-taday, junior!" I have always liked being in the front of the class, keeping up, taking notes and paying the upmost attention especially when it came to english and creative writing classes. I of course got bullied for this, and had to cut gum out of my hair so many times that I had a bob by the end of the year giving a better chance at calling me a "dyke" and telling me that I looked like a boy. No surprise. 

I was pretty much raised by my dad, playing sports and dressing myself in jerseys and blue jeans. Any time I even touched grounds of an extracurricular activity I was deemed a teacher's pet, or an over achiever. I didn't understand when I was a child that it was one of the best qualities to have, at the time I almost felt cursed. 

I would cry almost nightly about the confrontations with other classmates. They stole my journal, they put down my art, they group together to point fingers when I was one of the only kids still standing during the spelling bee. No this doesn't hurt me anymore. I'm just giving you a little back story. This is all elementary anyway. 

Middle school was like the major leagues compared to my high school experience. I think it's the bout of new found hormones fluttering about. I didn't understand girl on girl competition, I had no idea that FRIENDS stabbed each other in the back, and I certainly didn't know until then that I was ugly or stupid just because I didn't gave a boyfriend. And didn't until high school. I guess after a few months and school changes I deemed myself a "loner". 

In high school I acquired a pack. It was nice, but i would change almost everything from then on. I no longer had myself anymore, I had other people to tend to and I wasn't used to this. Even in my home life I fended for myself. I was given 5 dollars at the beginning of the day to take the bus, get lunch, and come home. There I would make ramen and watch golden girls until my dad came home late at night (workaholic pretty much). I really did like being alone. I still do, but something in high school took that away. I spent too much time doing absolutely nothing that I feel like I lost a good few years developing myself. Especially those fine years that spit you right out into the world when their done chewing you up. 

An epiphany hit me and I got my G.E.D. with an 88% in english by the way (which is OK)! I headed up to city college to glorify my got education down slip and turn it into a diploma. I started taking philosophy and history classes. I loved writing papers and the assigned reading but there was a creative side of me that was lacking. 

I realized that I had been writing scripts since I can remember and had already thought of about a thousand stories thus far. So after a year and a half of lecture classes I enrolled in my first cinema class. I haven't left since. 

I am in love with film making. The process, the on the spot configuration, the challenges, the stories to tell, editing, working with people etc… it's all there. Everything. Why hadn't I thought of this before? Duh! 

So now I am waiting for my third semester to start. I have gone back to my ways and well, people will still be people. Yes I get called a teacher's pet, i get made fun of for color coding my lined scripts, and preparing detailed schedules of shoots but that's what's I want to do. I'm not doing any of this for praise from my teacher or any of the other students, but I'm finding that many other students are, and that's where their projects fall lacking. If I had the reader in mind this entire time I might have cut my elementary story short, but personally I felt that it rendered the post to a full circle, explaining my need to revert this thought that I should stop when people tell me to. Cause I have a feeling that most of the time they are telling me to stop, so they have no more competition. Pretentious? Maybe, if you think that. I think I'm calling out the hidden emotions that drive people to discourage others. 

Since next semester I am retaking a class (for the experience not the grade) I know what assignments to expect so I have already started to prepare them for my brain is restless but my nerves lead the thriving ambition to no where with nothing to do. Fear I say, I need school? No, I just don't want to start outside projects that I won't be able to finish. 

I guess I just needed to write all of this out for my own good to look back and see that at one time I did recognize this drive as a positive thing and not something that will ruin my sanity. 

I think all in all what I really need is to grow on this idea and keep forward thinking about telling my story without pondering on the wants of readers, and most of all keep it up. 

Thank you for reading. 

Elektra