Quillrosetellsstories - Quill Rose

“you gotta love yourself, baby. if you don’t, who will?”

— sharon g. flake, the skin i’m in

Watching old AJR concert is my secret to writing

Blow negative thoughts every day, to make room for all the beautiful things that life gives you every day.

Teaching in 2020

              Second grade was hard enough

                The seconds turn into hours

                Screens turn to staff as

                Students turn their screens on and off

                Teaching students slipping out of their chairs at home

                Teaches us what we thought we already learned

                Too raw is the view into the houses of inner-city youth

                Exposed to their reality;                my past too.

                When the day is over, we rub our burning eyes

                We say it is easy when we are pioneers

                Fighting our exhaustion and creeping mental instability

                Has us fighting our love for our career.  

Get to Know the Author <3

Hello!

After a few posts and sharing a few pieces, I thought I'd do a quick introduction. My pen name is quill rose, I use she/her, and I'm 23. My sign is cancer (capricorn moon, scorpio rising), I'm an INFJ, and a writer! My personal identities tie into my writing. My current project is a fantasy series depicting poc and lgbtq characters. In writing, my strengths are dialogue and worldbuilding. I find the most joy in the telling of stories.

Quick favorites:

        Movie: Lego Batman

        Book: Percy Jackson (I'm counting the series)

        Music: AJR and Billy Joel

        Author: Yaa Gyasi 

        Poet: Audre Lorde

        Food: Popcorn

        Color: Purple

        Video Game: Mass Effect (Trilogy)

A few more interests I have aaare: reading, illustration, fashion, cosplaying, jewelry making, journaling, self-care, dancing, and my two cats; Ahsoka and Rex.

Continuing to write from here,

quill rose

A Journey, New Home

In front of me are two steps.

Once taken, two more appear.

Will there ever be

more than two

visible at one time?

Behind me is one step.

On a road I already walked.

Will that step

be any different

if I took it now?

I know what I already walked.

I can strain to see what I have yet to traverse.

Is it better to retreat to the known

when I see one step further

in the unexplored?

Forever Writng

quill rose

Fed seagulls on the Cali beaches with my youngest sister.

The Way Smell Evokes Memory

            On a hot summer afternoon, after a day of playing in the sun but before retiring to play video games, my mother would always shower. She loved spending time with us on those rare free days when all five of her girls were home, and she wasn’t working one of many jobs she held down simultaneously to provide. Our job was to set the living room up, since she didn’t understand and wasn’t willing to learn how to work the equipment. She would emerge in a puff of steam and a waft of perfume. Unwilling to wear shorts outside, those days she was even willing to don a light summer nightdress. We each peeled off at different times in the night, smart enough and independent enough to dictate our own bedtimes. With a yawn, I’d announce my departure. My mother was never short on hugs, pulling me in and holding me, understanding of the importance of that contact. Rich vanilla and rose and a creamy, heavy shea butter: the last things I’d smell for the night.

            When riffling through the cabinet before moving out, I discovered the exact lotion she would use. Her ‘yes’ when I asked to take it was distracted, unaware of the significance. Although, I don’t use it much.

The First Day

For the past nine years, I've forgotten November first. 

Seriously, the entire day. Something in my brain has allowed me to completely skip past the day for years, shown through every November writing project. November is National Novel Writing Month. Since 2013, I have participated in NaNoWriMo, a month dedicated to the completion, however roughly, of a piece of writing. Every year, I miss the first day of writing, which always sets me behind for the remainder of the month. Occasionally, I have even forgotten to write until halfway through the month, leaving me scrambling to come up with 30 thousand words in a couple weeks. 

This year, I'm prepared. 

On the second, of course. I forgot about yesterday. 

This year my goal is 50 thousand words. As I start each day, I'd like to begin with a quick post depicting my process and process. And of course I wouldn't be an author if I didn't add: Look for the first volume in the Otherworld series, coming 2023. 

Forever Writing,

quill rose