the journal of r. cooper

Sometimes I wonder how much I ought to talk about, what sort of writer-blogger should I be? Share everything personal? Share nothing personal? Something in the middle? Only positive things? Then I think, meh, girl, focus on the stories. But that does leave weirdness that still has to be addressed.

Like right now I'm in a weird in between place with my stories. Normally I am down for in between and undefined, but other times a definition is useful. Am I a writer? (Or at least, a paid one?) Am I better off as someone with a real life, outside of my head, job who only writes when she can, as a hobby? I know some people like my stories, but most people hate or are indifferent to them, from what I can tell. I am, and always have been, a weirdo outsider. So really not being hugely successful or popular isn't a new thing for me. (Always the weird bridesmaid, never the weird bride). But I've reached a point where I have to do the math (ugh) and figure out what's best for me, financially and mentally. So I'm kind of in a strange headspace right now. It doesn't mean I'm not writing or doing anything, just that my mood has once again swung down and I'm not in condition for a lot of things at the moment. Real life can wear a person down, sometimes.

For something less melancholy to talk about, we could discuss buttsex in m/m romance fiction. The expectations for it and the ways it's used and written. But uuuggghhhh that sounds like a deep discussion (no pun intended) and I don't think I can handle it yet. I only mention it at all because of Wicklow and his touch/trust issues.

Speaking of Wicklow. Did I ever tell you guys how Lucy and I like to discuss an event that happened before the book, when all of D.C. was convinced Rhoades was already sleeping with Wicklow (even if they didn't know their exact relationship or what Wicklow does for a living)? And some political rival of Rhoades' attempts to go after Wicklow to get at Rhoades, and Rhoades finds out and slowly, thoroughly, ruthlessly, destroys that person to make it clear to everyone the consequences of trying to go after his people/his Wicklow? And he never mentions a thing to Wicklow? He simply continues to invite him over in the evenings, and feed him and care for him and watch him when he thinks Wicklow won't see?

Only Wicklow always sees more than he lets on, and he hears the rumors. He doesn't think Rhoades did it for him, exactly. He thinks Rhoades was protecting the team, but this is Wicklow and he doesn't like debt. And secretly he is pleased Rhoades did this merciless thing for them. He's proud of him, fond in a way Wicklow doesn't have words for. So he decides to reward Rhoades, in his way, and holds still when Rhoades watches him and lets him look. Until he's shivering and unduly warm and confused because he thought he was doing Rhoades a favor but he is the one who feels better with this unspoken thing shimmering between them. Rhoades is looking and for the first time, although Wicklow doesn't say it or even think it directly, Wicklow is considering what Rhoades wants from him. And he is warm, and he is not scared. Perhaps he ought to be. He knows what Rhoades is capable of. But he is safe there in Rhoades' library. Rhoades will never hurt him.



And by the way, thank you, anyone who reads my stuff, and especially those who send me comments. It's honestly one of the greatest feelings to hear about how someone stayed up late to finish your story, or how it made them cry. Sure, I respond awkwardly and probably always will. But it's genuinely moving to know somebody liked something I did that much. You guys are great. :)

I keep writing all these things and I don't know what to do with them. Weird short story things and alternate universe of existing story things. Just random ideas that don't seem to have a place, no matter how adorable I might think they are.

Short stories in the Beings universe seems to be a place my mind keeps going, though I have no idea if that sort of thing is publishable. Maybe a series of them with a unifying theme. Or no theme, just a series of short stories. (Would that be a thing people would read?) It might include existing characters or it might be all new. I wrote a thing about an imp in love the other day.

An imp! I know! It just happened.

Anyway, I'm still alive, just sort of frazzled. :)

Have an excerpt...


"Someone once told me that you were the enforcer of Mr. Summers' political will, Mr. Rennet. You should consider the source of your information," Campbell the reporter snapped back, sweating but brave. Rennet stared at him, then directed a look over at John. John was calm, even smiling faintly, which could have meant anything, but he wasn't intervening to shut Rennet up, so after a long minute, Rennet arched his eyebrows.

"Just Rennet," he corrected the reporter, in case this was on the record. "Rennet the imp. What kind of idiot would hire an imp for matters of a delicate nature? I'm an embodiment of chaos, asshole. I don't do good or evil. Didn't you learn this in school?"

"Asshole seems harsh, Rennet," John commented, taking his empty cup and setting it next to the coffee machine. Rennet would need at least two cups to feel any effects from the caffeine. John removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves before preparing a second cup, just for Rennet.

"See?" Rennet continued with his mouth dry, trying not to stare at John's forearms. "Sorry about the asshole thing, but you honestly think I take orders from this guy?"

Margery coughed around her sip of coffee.







I don't even know where my brain is anymore, but Rennet will pretty much do anything John wants, little delusional failboat that he is. He is fooling no one.