Angle:Many authors hesitate to revise a draft they “love” for fear of losing its magic. This post would explore why that fear is natural—and why careful editing is often what protects the heart of the work rather than destroying it. Why it resonates:Almost every writer has a draft they’re afraid to touch. Naming that fear invites recognition, comments, and shared experience. Discussion prompt: Is there a piece you’ve been avoiding revising because it feels too fragile?

(I feel like i didn't even get to complete the assignment, as i didn't get to write what she saw before my timer went off. But here it is anyway!) Aria stared up at the 10 foot wooden door. She felt about 3 foot tall standing in front of it. "Any room except the tall one", The King's voice still rang in her ear. So why was she feeling so drawn to it?! "I must open this door!" She thought. She took ten steps back and ran all the way up the side of the door, grabbing onto the handle and giving it a big pull as she lost her grip and tumbled to the ground. Luckily, the doorswung inward. She walked in and was struck by a burst of air

(Here is one of those short stories I was talking about. Hope yall like it! I'malso open to critique! Either on which direction you'd think I should go in with the stories, but also the story itself.) The dreams Aria has, she’s always felt were special. Some people had dreams that were choppy and they couldn’t remember parts of, but Aria’s dreams felt Real. She’d wake up sweating and panting as if she was running in Real life, or bruises and scratches on her skin that weren’t there when she had gone to bed the night before. She often could still hear the Character of the dreams, as if she and that person were melded. They never questioned her being there. Almost as if she’d been there the whole time with them, in their timeline. On this particular night, Aria opened her eyes to discover herself standing on soft, soil and grass. She looked around her and noticed the Bright Orange Star was just beginning to rise, casting purple, orange and pink hues upon the land in front of her. She was standing on high ground, able to see the villages below, with their caravans brightly colored, covered in clothe. She could see people hanging up their clothes on string going from one tree to another. Others were walking around, or tending to their farms, while the children were playing and laughing, chasing each other down the dirt paved roads. She could see a village a bit further out, hidden by a dark green forest. Aria felt a sense of home towards this village. She took a deep breath, and exhaled grounding herself in the environment around her. “OK let’s go see what this adventure holds”, she says to herself as she makes her way down the rocky mountain. The village was small, and friendly enough, but she got the sense that she wasn’t exactly from this village, which is what was causing the slight glares and gawking of the town’s people. Some, however, greeted her with much love and beautiful smiles as they came to hug her. In this town there was an extremely tall, hairy man. Intimidating by nature, this man resembled more beast than human, as he hunched over, trying to hide his height. He was standing by her caravan, waiting for her as she trekked the couple more steps to him. She was very taken by this being, for she could tell, even after witnessing so much hate, he was still embodied a beautiful, gentle soul. On the inside, she recognized a piece of herself in him. They walked through the town, immediately comfortable in their steps, and in their presence. It was as if they had done these silent walks a million times. “Although, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not even sure they hadn’t walked this road a million times,” she thought to herself. He didn’t talk much, but yet somehow still radiated wisdom. He took his time walking, and when he did speak, it wasn’t very many words, but still slow to get out. She recognized his fear, his lack of confidence, yet could also see that he held something that could change the world for all who interacted with this part of his soul.

A short story I wrote one day while I was trying to work on my book. When the first snow flake fell, or the first time, I was born. I am Jack Frost. I have existed as the fey always have and I will tell you my story, if you will listen. It is an interesting life I’ve lived, one filled with love, loss and pain. I will not begin at the start, but at the start of my troubles. You see, Man is the true evil in this world. He has always been that way, pure destruction and chaos. We fey have always known this, though some choose to ignore this. As I said, when the first snowflake fell, I was born. I was fully formed as I am today. I did not grow up to be this figure, none of us did. I have lived far beyond the human race and will live long after it is gone. We alone know the truth and what has happened over the millenniums. For example, there has been a total of three “ice ages”, not two. How do I know this you ask? Because I am the cause of all three. The first happened over 400 billion years ago. The human race was about what it is today. Advanced in ways that almost parallel today. But they worshipped us, the fey. They knew who and what we were, and respected us. Well, for a short time anyways. The queen of the unseelie court wanted more. You see there are 3 courts in the fey kingdom, the Seelie, ruled by the king of light, the unseelie, ruled by the queen of darkness, and the grey court. The grey court has no real ruler though, we hold our meetings in secret. The other court have been searching for us for quite some time now. But I digress. As I was saying, the Queen wanted more. She wanted everything, and, at the time, she was my queen. She ordered me to cover the world in ice and snow to teach the humans a lesson. They were to fear us again. And so, I used all my strength and did as she asked. The world froze, killing hundreds of thousands of people, almost to the point of extinction. Those that survived did so only by hiding deep in the earth and getting help for the king of light, and his daughter, Phoenix. They kept those humans alive and warm, but could not keep them fed.

Hey you guys! I am Marie-Christin, I am writing a mixture of horror and comedy (very German) Right now I’m working on a book about a very specific west-southern german Fasnacht. The people dress up as witches and monsters to scare the winter demons away. In my book, one of these old winter demons wakes up after 600 years of sleep. Right now I am going through the first beta-reader feedback. I am excited to be here! Best regards