So I’m thinking about this guy I used to know and his wife. They had a weird relationship. What I’m thinking about just now is the power dynamic. She was mostly in charge, and he did this thing where he had dreams and was super talented, and she supported him without breaking him enough to make him succeed.
Does that make sense?
What I’m saying is, he kept failing, and he had all the parts necessary for success except that motivating partner section that gives you a foundation from which to take risks that work. The physical support was there but the emotional grit was missing.
I don’t think he wanted to let go of his father’s disapproval. He had a super screwed up family, the kind that looks normal until you stick around for six years and start to see the big picture, and the patterns that emerge over time.
What I’m wondering is what it would have taken, in the situation he was in, for him to have broken from talented and promising into actual success. He didn’t want success enough to reach out and take it in a forceful way, and I don’t know if his wife was emotionally lacking in support because he didn’t want support or because she didn’t want him to succeed. I think it was because he didn’t want that kind of support, which is sort of sad.
Although, why should other people giving up make me sad, if they’re willfully clinging to dysfunctional relatives instead of cutting loose and becoming independent (emotionally) and successful (in the sense of achieving what they want)?
That’s illogical, to be sad for people choosing what they want, even if what they want is misery. More power to them, right?
Anyway, here’s a sample.
Diana is Alone:
Diana moved down the darkened hallway of the junior high with a thundering heart and prickles of fear on her palms. The aliens had come yesterday, and now the world was frozen with ice, but this school, because of a quirk in the ground below the foundation, had stayed warm.
She’d only found out about the junior high being left alone because the mass text from the city had alerted everyone to the situation before her phone had died. Everyone’s phone had died. Cars had frozen, too. She’d walked here through the thinning crowds and the white, icy wasteland and found no one in the building when she’d arrived.
People had started to vanish partway through her walk, blipping away without a sound. She hadn’t thought it was really happening until her friend, Jasmine, who had been talking loudly just beside her, went away. More people, and then more, disappearing without any sign. Nothing was left behind.
Well, except for Diana.
You’re reading Victor Poole, and in my book that I’m working on right now, Carrie is talking about his several piercings, how he got them and why.