Part XXV: Connor and the Boy with Green Eyes

Today’s daily prompt: Winning Streak

What’s the longest stretch you’ve ever pulled off of posting daily to your blog? What did you learn about blogging through that achievement, and what made you break the streak?

This month has been the only time I’ve ever had a daily posting streak.

If there’s anything I learned about blogging through this challenge, it’s that writing a little every day goes a long way. It was much harder to write daily at the beginning of November than it is now. I find that words seem to flow easier because I’ve been practicing writing every day.

Another thing I learned about writing is my misconception that it would just “come to me”. Every time I faced writer’s block, my resolution was to simply wait for it to pass. Unfortunately, I could not afford that luxury during NaBloPoMo. If I didn’t complete the installment within the next few hours, I would have no time to do so later on. Therefore, I had to push myself to write even if I didn’t like the way the words were lining up on my page. I prodded myself to continue editing my words, rearranging them, deleting them, and writing new ones until I was at least somewhat satisfied with the content. Writing with a writer’s block is difficult because you’ve been in moments when you’re in the zone. You know how much easier and better it is to write in that mood versus a writer’s block.

Amateurs sit and wait for inspiration, the rest of us just get up and go to work.
– Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

I will probably return back to weekly Sunday posts after this, but I have a bunch of new illustration ideas and writing topics so maybe I’ll be posting twice a week.


The last installment of my short story series, inspired by NaNoWriMo/NaBloPoMo and the daily prompt.

<< Part XXIV: Connor and the Wedding

“This is our new hire, Nathan.”

Connor extended his hand to shake the young twenty-something’s hand. “Nice to meet you, my name is Connor.”

Connor’s boss, a software coder named Keith whom he had met at a networking event years ago, arched an eyebrow in Connor’s direction. “Connor is one of the earliest members of our graphic support team. He’ll guide you along until you get the hang of things.”

“Yeah, just ask me if you need help with anything.”

Nathan didn’t look at Connor with admiring eyes the way an intern would. He only gave Connor a nod of acknowledgement.  A little snobby for a new hire, but Connor reasoned that kids at his age thought they knew everything. Who knows? Perhaps this kid was a better designer than him and he had all the right to act snobby.

Keith piped up. “Interesting fact: Nathan’s mom is the author of Horizons. Isn’t she your favorite author, Connor?”

At this interesting fact, Connor perked up and he took a closer look at the boy standing in front of him.

Like his father, Nathan shared the same ultra-white skin and curly hair, but Connor could not believe he didn’t notice his green eyes. They were a deep emerald green framed by long lashes and the beauty of a childhood love.

It wasn’t until Nathan pulled up a chair on his own accord that Connor realized that Keith had already finished the introductions and left the two of them alone in Connor’s office. He hoped Nathan wasn’t creeped out that an old man just stared into his eyes for a full two minutes.

“I used to be friends with your mother a long time ago. How is she doing?”

Nathan just shrugged, not looking skeptical at all of Connor’s claim to be his mother’s friend. “She’s working on a new book.”

Of course she was.

“You didn’t want to become an author?”

Nathan looked at Connor with an expressionless attitude and Connor deduced that the boy must have been asked this question dozens of times between his mother being a well-known author and his father working at a publishing firm. Still, he wanted to know because this was Samantha’s son sitting in front of him in flesh and bones. Connor was intrigued by his very being.

Nathan heaved a heavy sigh and slouched in his chair, reminding Connor of how Stevie liked to sprawl on the sofa. “Well, I kinda wanted to when I was little.”

“Oh, yeah? Because of your mother’s books?”

“No, I was too young to read those. My favorite book was The Boy with the Golden Feathers.”

Connor’s smile froze on his face.

Oh, god. How many years had it been?

The Boy with the Golden Feathers never became a best-seller. Only thirty copies were printed and donated to schools as part of the campaign. Aside from a copy he kept for himself, one he sent to his parents, and the one he gave to Samantha as a wedding gift, Connor was sure his one-time author debut fell through the cracks of reality. Now this episode of his life was resurfacing like an embarrassing high school yearbook.

“You wrote it, didn’t you?”

Connor coughed wildly. “Yes, I did.”

Nathan didn’t say anything after that. Connor’s ears felt flaming hot. He wondered if Nathan knew he used to love his mother. How awkward would that be?

Connor tried to initiate a new conversation. “Is there a specific reason you came to work here? I’m sure there’s work for you in Seattle.”

Again, Nathan shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His nonchalant demeanor echoed a mixture of Samantha’s composure and Stevie’s cynicism. “My ‘rents pushed me to go to Princeton because they both attended there. I didn’t mind, it’s a nice school. I just like New Jersey more than Seattle, I guess.”

Connor bit his tongue, otherwise he would’ve mentioned that he attended Princeton too. With Samantha.

“Also, I’m a fan of your work. I did some research and found out you were working here. Saw an internship and just applied on a whim.”

Connor felt his ego inflate a little. Samantha’s son was a fan of his work. How ironic was that when he adored every piece of writing that had Samantha’s pen name stamped on it?

“What did your mother say when you told her you wanted to work here?”

Nathan scratched his chin. “Nothing much. She just said she used to be friends with you and that you’re a good guy. You know, you guys should just send each other an email or something. I don’t know how many years you guys have lost touch for.”

Connor didn’t think that was such a bad idea. He already had a funny conversation topic to start off: your son works for me now!

Nathan whirled his neck three-hundred and sixty degrees at Connor’s embellished office. “Cool office. You painted those?”

“No, my daughter painted those.”

“Nice, great use of color. Does she go to an art school?”

“Yes, she’s studying fine arts.”

Connor watched Nathan as he continued to stare at the giant mural wall of paintings. His noticeable fascination for the paintings reminded Connor of the way he used to look at Samantha’s books. He was probably over-thinking it, but at that moment Connor assured himself he would not let his eighteen-year-old Libby meet Nathan, just to be safe.

He could already imagine the dinner conversation he’d have with Isabella tonight. She’d be roaring with laughter at the introduction of Nathan and Connor’s fatherly worries. Libby would roll her eyes and tell him to stop being so overprotective and annoying, but then she would come to his room later and show him her latest painting with a sweet smile.

Well, it would just be another normal Monday night.

The end.

eb66a206fcba478341eac3efd4d5ac5d Sincerely, Loewe


To Loewe:

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