Mother's Day Challenge Submission #2 from infamousnalani

"How Far We've Come" by infamousnalani

Freezing temperatures and the imminent threat of death couldn’t eradicate the rebels’ festivity as they prepared to welcome a new standard year. A spontaneous celebration had erupted in the mess hall that enticed even the most secluded of people. Various alcohols had been brought out from under bunks and smuggling compartments on the Falcon and troops gathered around a table to gamble and watch smashball. The holiday cheer seemed to have infected everyone except for a certain princess, which did not go unnoticed by Han Solo.

It was the first new year since their entourage had been thrown together and Leia had never felt so defeated. The traditions and comforts of her old life had died with her planet and she had found herself struggling to overcome the emptiness she felt in her life. She reached for a glass of one of the cruder liquors and downed it and, having done it numerous times within the past two hours, hardly grimaced anymore.

Throughout the night, Han had been counting her drinks from across the room at the expense of his friends’ conversations. In the short amount of time that he had known her, Han had never seen the princess drinking to drown her emotions. He wordlessly excused himself from their discussion about ships and Sabacc to approach Leia.

“How are you holding up?”

Leia stumbled as she turned around to face him. “Uh-uh, not today Solo.” Her hips shifted and her feet scrambled to maintain her balance. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

Han rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm to prevent her from falling. “It’s time to go.”

Leia protested in his grasp and, with a newly found bravado, attempted to push him away from her. A “I’m fine” slurred through her teeth.

“You’re not ‘fine’. You’ve had five shots in two hours and you have zero coordination. Leave before you draw attention to yourself.”

Leia slumped into his chest, which he took as a sign of resignation. He lifted her off the ground and gathered her legs on his arms until she appeared to be resting comfortably. The walk to her quarters was characterized by silence and fleeting eye contact as Leia stared inquisitively into Han’s, which darted around the dimly lit passages. After fumbling with the door, Han made his way over to Leia’s bunk and placed her in it gently. Noticing that Leia had been eying him for a good while now, Han broke the silence.

“What?”

“Tell me about our babies.”

The request caught him off guard, but intrigued him nonetheless. “What?”

“It’s crazy,” she drawled out, “the idea of me – a princess – and a guy like you…” She trailed off before shutting her eyes tight. “People keep telling me that you love me.” She let an uncharacteristic laugh and grabbed his hand to shake his arm. “Tell me about them.”

He cleared his throat. “Which parts?”

“All of them.” She responded hazily.

“Well,” Han started. “There’s a boy, and then a little girl. The boy with wild, unmanageable hair, of course, and the girl with crazy braids that shouldn’t be possible.”

Leia’s focus shifted from his eyes to the scar on his chin and she ran her thumb across it.

“Stubborn. But loving, too. Strong willed and determined. Dark chocolate colored eyes and maybe a bit shorter than average.”

Leia had slipped into the waves of unconsciousness as the need for sleep overtook her. Han’s eyes softened at the sight of her and he slipped out of the room, stuck with the image of a small human that was half Leia and half him pulling at Chewie’s hair and the sound of tiny feet patting the floor as they ran excitedly through the Falcon. He paused outside the door and let the air cool his lungs. Shaking his head, he put the image out of his head and made his way back to the Millennium Falcon for the night.

The crisp night air left Leia chilled as she and Han made their way back to their provided hut amongst the Endor treetops. Nerves coursed their way through her body, further amplified by the light breeze that whisked past them.

“I feel like we should’ve been there by now.” She commented.

“I can’t find the damned place.” The day’s events had only caused Han’s frustration to simmer and he was eager to find himself alone with Leia for the first night since their trip to Cloud City.

“Well should we just turn back?”

“No.” He hadn’t intended the venom that infused his tone and immediately regretted the snap. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just find it.”

Nine paces and one right turn later, they’d stumbled upon the empty hut. The hearth was burning serenely, no doubt begun by the hospitality of one of the indigenous creatures. Leia collapsed on the makeshift bed, finding comfort at a surprising rate. Han stood motionless at the closed door and eyed the illuminated insides.

“Come to bed, Han.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

The exchange on the bridge flashed in Leia’s mind. “Yes, why wouldn’t I? Come here.”

Han tentatively made his way over and sat next to her. “You seemed upset with me earlier.”

“I wasn’t… I’m,” she paused. “I’m just afraid.” Her eyes glazed over and she clenched them shut to resist the beginning of tears. She exhaled before continuing, “Everything I have might be gone tomorrow.”

Han attempted to soothe her by running his fingers through her hair. “You’re alright, we’re alright. We’ll make it through.”

“It’s not us I’m worried about; it’s Luke.”

Han missed a beat as a result of the sparks of jealousy that flared within him. “He’s a Jedi, he can hold his own.”

Leia shook her head in rebuttal. “Vader’s his father.” She pondered disclosing the other information she had learned while talking to Luke but couldn’t muster enough courage to confront it herself.

Han wrapped his arm around her frame and grabbed her hand, stroking it with his thumb in an effort to ease her tension.

Leia sniffled and rolled over to face him. “Do you remember the New Year’s party on Hoth? You took me back to my quarters and you told me what our kids will be like.”

“Uh, listen here, Princess.” Han gave the hand in his a squeeze. “You asked me to. But yeah, I might remember that.” He smiled softly at her. “The real question is how do you? You were beyond wasted.”

She moved to rest her head on his chest and felt her anxiety melting away. “I’m not sure how. But you got something wrong.”

“Did I?”

“Yes. That our daughter’s going to have you wrapped around her pinky finger, you old softie.”

“You’re not much better.” He continued after noticing the curiosity in his beloved’s eyes, not unlike the last time they’d had this conversation. “Your son’s gonna make you late to work every day because he’s not gonna be happy until you give him exactly 17 hugs before you walk out the door.”

“My son?” She laughed.

“Your son.”

Leia sighed contentedly and fidgeted with one of the buttons on his shirt. “I want that one day. Babies, I mean.” She stole a glance at Han’s face before continuing. “I want the antics and the babbling and the laughter and the wide-eyed curiosity.” Han chucked at the last part. “What?”

“Nothing.” He placed a kiss at the top of her head. “Soon, sweetheart, I promise. First let’s make it through tomorrow.”

Six standard months had passed since the fall of the Empire and Leia had been met with a newly found exhaustion. Being tasked with developing an intergalactic government tired her out more than partaking in strategies for the rebellion ever did and too worn out to be intimate with Han despite their newly established union.

She had been rearranging and reorganizing her office when she was interrupted by a knock on the door. She pressed the button to allow the visitor in, whom she had recognized as soon as they’d entered the high-rising Coruscant building. Her brother emerged from behind the sliding door and embraced her.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“No. I’ve actually been reorganizing my already organized paperwork.” She motioned to the various color-coded folders and labels sprawled out on her desk. “So it’s nice to have a distraction.”

Luke beamed at her. “You got that from dad.”

“And his anger issues too, apparently.” She deadpanned. “At least this will amount to some good, if we’re lucky.”

“Who needs luck when you have me?” He teased but it quickly lost its comedic value when Leia socked him in the shoulder.

“You’ve been spending too much time around my husband. God, that still feels so weird to say.”

“How are you guys? I’ve been meditating and I felt that you were troubled by something.”

“Not troubled,” she went to sit at her desk. “Just exhausted. This job is taking so much out of me.” Luke pulled out the chair from across from her and sat in it. “Something just feels different.”

“Have you tried meditating?” He looked around at the clutter surrounding them. Based off that alone, he could tell that she hadn’t. “Just take some time for introspection. I’ll walk you through it.”

Leia’s resolve fell and she stood up to sit on the floor next to him. She wasn’t expecting much to come from it because of her inexperience with the Force but decided to try it nonetheless. Following Luke’s directions to retreat her mind into a pleasurable place, she found herself laying next to Han in an early morning. She recognized the scene, it was nearly a month ago and the sun had yet to infiltrate their small apartment. The chronometer read 04:27, two hours before she had to be up. Han had pulled her close to his body and was placing kisses on her jawline.

“Han, it’s so early,” she mumbled into her pillow.

“We can go back to sleep if you want.” His hands squeezed her thigh and the time was ultimately forgotten.

Her rumination then brought her to various other moments following that morning that flagged her conscious until she felt a radiant, youthful energy within her. Her eyes shot open and she struggled to catch her breath.

“What’d you see?” Luke questioned calmly, he evidently already knew.

“I need to go home.” Leia hastily gathered her paperwork and belongings and left Luke alone surrounded by stacks of paperwork.

She had bounded through their front door in record time and kicked off her shoes in a manner unlike herself. Han was in the kitchen carefully following a recipe on a datapad.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He decreased the heat on the stove and moved to embrace her. He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “I didn’t think you’d be home for another hour or so.”

“Something came up.” She dropped her head sheepishly in an attempt to conceal her smile. “You know that game we play, the one where we talk about our future kids?”

“Mhmm.”

Leia wrapped her hands around the base of Han’s neck. “You said soon.”

“I did.”

“How soon is nine months?”

Han’s expression went from incredulous to incandescent before Leia even had time to process his reaction. He had encircled her in his arms and twirled her off the ground. “It’s a little short notice but I think we’ll be alright.”

“You’re so dumb,” she laughed, dangling her feet.

“I love you.” He whispered into her ear and kissed her temple before setting her back on the ground.

Leia’s smile sent electricity down his spine. “We’re starting our family.”

“My own family.” He grabbed both of her hands. “You keep giving me more than I could ever give you.”

“You gave me everything when I gave you nothing.”

He was confused. “When?”

“Every moment up until that first kiss.”

“Look how far we’ve come.”

Mother's Day Challenge Submission #1 from cv73

You Won't Go Wrong

"I don’t know what we're going to do."

Han sounds as lost as she's ever heard him, in these scant months since the Death Star, since Han has sort of, maybe, perhaps been part – no, adjacent to – the Rebel Alliance. Hauled cargo, run blasters, brought refugees, found them cheap ships to rebuild. Protesting all the way, but always coming back. He's squatting down next to the bed, rubbing a hand across his face and she can hear the beard stubble as he does. She's never seen him with a beard, but she might by the end of this.

Then again, Leia feels as lost as he does. They're stuck in the middle of some ridiculous almost pre-space flight town on a planet that trades only in certain areas. The Imperials are everywhere, hunting them, hunting someone, hunting. Armed patrols in the streets.

And they're in a rattletrap inn, kilometers from the port and a way out, huddled in one room, the pair of them.

Oh, and Luke, lying in a shivering, sweating mass under a blanket that Han declared he wouldn't use to wash down the Falcon. Sick with Ryshallen Fever, an illness she and Han had been vaccinated against as children, but they were from Core Worlds. An Outer Rim desert planet was always overlooked for the latest vaccines and its heat and lack of water would kill most germs. So a childhood illness had taken him down…and was only making him sicker by the moment.

She's sitting on the bed next to Luke. She'd tried to coax some water down his throat, bring him back, but he seems to be slipping further into a dream, muttering "not now, Aunt Beru." She settles for rubbing his shoulder, thinking there has to be something they can do. But like Han, she is running out of options.

"We need to get him out of here." She sighs, and Han meets her eyes.

"No, really, that was not on my list." He shakes his head, looking at her apologetically. "I'm thinking our best bet is for me to get us a speeder, we can bundle him in it, and haul ass for the port."

"But neither of us has enough credits to get a speeder."

"I wasn't thinking legally – "

"And if you steal one, the Imperials could be on to us."

"I'd considered that, sweetheart. I just don't know what else we can do. We can't wait for this to burn out, he's goin' under now. If we find a doctor around here, who knows if they won't just turn us over to the Imperials? That's our options. Hell, we don't even know if we take him to one, they'll know how to treat him. And the longer we stick around –"

"I know!" she snaps. "But you could go steal that speeder, get picked up by the Imperials and then where are we?"

"Well, they'd at least dose Luke up with something to stop the fever before they haul us all to Lord Vader," he says sourly.

Leia is ready to scream at him, but then he reaches out and strokes Luke's blond hair back from his forehead. "Poor kid. Next thing the Rebellion does, steal some damn vaccines. He might not be the only one."

"No." she says softly, amazed at the change in Han's expression, from hardened smuggler to what she and Luke call, behind his back of course, Han the Soft Touch. It sneaks out in tiny moments, but they'd taken to conspiratorially compiling them. She's heard him call Luke "kid" a thousand times at least, but this time… "He doesn't mind you calling him that, does he?"

Han is still looking at Luke and doesn't meet her eyes. "No. I'll probably call him that when we're both grey with grandchildren, he'll still be younger."

She doesn't dare derail his thought train – that they'll all ever be that old and still alive to be friends - but she can't resist. "You with grandchildren?"

He shoots her a grin. "Sure. Bound to happen someday, I guess. I could see myself with kids. I'd sure as hell treat 'em better than I ever got treated. And Luke? Hell, you know he'll have kids – he loves everyone…he'll have a pack of dreamers, like him." Han sits back on his heels, his hazel eyes at last finding hers. "What about you, Princess?"

"What about…children?" She's struck by the question at first, that Han would even think about it. She's thought in odd moments that if there ever is a peace, she wants children – what are they fighting for but for the future? And she wants a family – she needs one now that hers is lost. "First duty of a royal house is to have children. I was adopted, like Luke. My parents couldn't have children of their own, so they adopted me. I was a war orphan."

"But do you want them? I mean -" He winces as if he realizes again about Alderaan and she has to give him that much. There's a depth under that cynical layer or he wouldn't be here, with her and Luke, trying to find a way out for all of them. If he were really a mercenary, he'd've run long ago.

She meets his suddenly serious gaze. "Yes, I do. I want children – even if there's no more Alderaan to lead, it's in my memory and I will teach it to my children. But I want them to be born free – free of this Empire."

She wonders why they've taken this turn, into this ramble, with the Empire possibly closing in and Luke growing sicker by the moment. There's a vaccine for Ryshallen because it can kill. She knows that neither she nor Han will let that happen if it takes everything they have. She's still not sure what her feelings, really, are for either of them, if something more could develop for Han as he seems to want in the moments they aren't arguing, if she gives it a chance, or why the farmboy from the Outer Rim seems to have some part of her she can't identify. But she does know one thing under all the flirting and sniping from Han, the boundless optimism from Luke – something wove them together from the start. She has the sense that if they do all survive to having children – grandchildren – that they will be together. This war won't tear them apart. Han can protest all he wants about leaving, but he's not going. Luke's not going to die of some childhood illness that he should have been protected from if this galaxy had any justice beyond who has the most weapons and power.

She waits for Han to ruin the moment, as he often does, with a snarky joke. But this time, he doesn't. He simply nods, looks again at Luke. "Then we gotta start by getting us outa here. See if you can get him a least a little mobile, I'm gonna go steal us a ride." He gets wearily to his feet. 

She can't resist. "Nothing flashy." She gives it a scolding tone, and as she expects – hopes - he rises to the bait.

"Look, Your Worship, I'm a smuggler – you think I'm gonna get us a flashy getaway ride?"

"Well, I don't know – "

"Would you two stop?"

And they both do at the mumble from Luke.

"Welcome back to the living," she says, looking at his eyes, half closed against even the dim light. "Feel any better?"

"No," he croaks and she reaches to bring him water. After a sip or two, he almost smiles. "But I will make it into whatever speeder you steal, Han."

She touches his forehead and maybe the fever has gone down a little. At least he knows who they are.

Han leans over to touch Luke's shoulder and manages a grin. "Good, Junior, I'm holding you to that." He straightens and heads for the door. "I'll comm you the second I get it runnin', you two be ready." His familiar crooked grin is for her, and he winks as he heads out the door.

This is her family now.

How About a Mother's Day Challenge?

Anyone interested in another challenge? Mother's Day in the US is coming up on Sunday, although as usual there is no deadline for this challenge. We've done this one before and only got a couple of submissions, but even if we only get one or two, sometimes it's still fun to get people writing.

So, the point isn't really to pretend it is Mother's Day in the galaxy far, far away. Although if you want to do that, you of course can. But just something that kind of showcases Leia as a mom. You can use the Legends kids, you can use kids you made up for them on your own, and I guess if you are prepared for the potential backlash you can use Ben. I'm sure there is even a way to write a story for this challenge without even naming the kids or telling us how many of them there are. Get creative!

If you want to give it a shot, just keep the length fairly reasonable for what would fit in a blog post and submit to me through email. I post these stories in the order in which I receive them.

Happy Star Wars Day! May the Fourth Be With You!

I'm not sure when May the Fourth "officially" became Star Wars day, but for any of you who were not aware, tomorrow is the big day. Because, well, May the Fourth. Apparently there are even some celebrations happening around the country.

I know more recently a lot of us have been kind of caught up in all the worst things about what has been going on. But let's try and remember all the great stuff. The three amazing movies that captivated all of us, resonated on a level that is next to impossible to replicate, and somehow totally hold up even 40 years later. I still love listening to the music, the movies still get me, and I've mostly been able to block out the bad stuff.

These movies have also given us inspiration for our writing, or for those of you who just read, it gives you great things to read. And we also of course have each other, and our little community here or elsewhere on the internet where you might hang out and converse with other fans. I've "met" and also literally met some really cool people because of all of this. And it's been really nice to find other people who are equally obsessed, but also functional humans and not just total weirdos ;)  I mean, yeah, we're all probably a little weird but then the outside world doesn't have to know that, do they?

So, go forth and wear your Star Wars tshirts. Watch the movies if you have time. Bust out some of your fun Star Wars merchandise. Read some fanfic, anything that brings you happiness because of these movies.

Specific Tastes in Reading and Writing

Our last post was getting a little overwhelmed with comments, and maybe it's time for a little subject change anyway. I thought of this story as I'm in the middle of writing something and having some trouble with it. I realized there are a couple of reasons I'm having trouble with it. One being that I tend to write more one-shot stories, just brief little scenes, and multi-chapter stories are outside of my comfort zone. But then I realized probably the bigger problem I'm having with it, is that I don't think I like writing Han and Leia when they aren't already together and happy.

So that got me thinking and wondering about whether or not other writers have certain scenarios or situations that they are drawn to as writers. For me, usually I'm just drawn to them already being together, often already with kids, too. Now, that is strictly as a writer. As a reader I can't think if anything specific of that nature I'm drawn to. I mean, sure for certain moods I might feel like, "I really need to find a happy, fluffy scene to read right now." But mostly I'm just looking for an interesting story, and that could mean all sorts of things.

Does anyone else have this problem I do where you have a hard time writing outside of a fairly narrow set of parameters? Truthfully for myself about the only thing that comes to mind is sweet little domestic scenes. I don't know if that is just me or if it is my brain trying to overcompensate with us being bombarded with these stupid ideas that they never would've worked out. Probably a little of both. But it is really causing me problems when I need to keep writing them being not together/annoyed with each other when all I want to do is write them like, spending a long morning in bed or something.

When I do write outside of my own narrow parameters, it also somehow feels inauthentic to me, which also doesn't help. Like the one time I wrote them as having some marital problems, it just felt... icky and wrong, and I don't think it was well written either. Other people don't seem to have this problem. Although I am sure I've noticed that with some other writers, they seem to do the opposite, often writing about them before they were together and preferring that side of things. As a reader those stories are probably more interesting too.

So does anyone else always find themselves coming up with similar scenarios or sticking with similar ideas when writing? And what about reading? Do you look for any specific things?

Star Wars Celebration 2017

For anyone who has not been paying attention, Star Wars Celebration is this weekend. And it includes the celebration of the 40th anniversary of Star Wars, which is incredible. I watched most of the live feed this morning which included visits from George Lucas, Mark Hamill and, amazingly, Harrison Ford. It's the first time he has appeared at a Celebration, although he was supposed to appear in 2015 but it was too soon after he had been in his plane crash. It was great to see him there, but of course it was incredibly sad to be reminded that we no longer have Carrie. There was a lovely tribute and a video that had some old behind the scenes footage, including some downright adorable footage of her and Harrison, as well as a few brief glimpses behind the scenes of Episode 8.

Anyone watching or paying attention? I'm sure tomorrow we will finally get an Episode 8 trailer. I'm sure I'll watch and see. Still feels like there is a bit of a downer around all of this with Carrie gone, but it's nice to see her so fondly remembered.

From the Archives: Your Writing Style

This post originally appeared HERE on November 8, 2011

A while ago Push asked me if I thought it was possible for someone to change their writing style. I don't know why that question popped into my head this morning but I thought writing styles would be a good topic of discussion. My answer in this case was yes, but it was probably going to take a lot more conscious thought and effort than just writing like you usually write. But let's start somewhere else.

So, what is writing style? It's basically just generally the way you, personally write. You could take three people and tell them to write the same scene and it could be done in a completely different way because they each have a different writing style. I mean, just look at the quickie challenge, for example.* Many of you pointed out how Push's writing has a certain flow to it, and I can't put my finger on it either, but it is just the style in which she writes. She also tends to use analogies, which isn't something that comes naturally to me. My favorite example of this, and this has stuck in my head for seriously like a year, was when she had Han coming home and Leia wasn't feeling well, and she said the tissues were strewn on the bed around her as though they were Jabba's minions. I still love that.**

My own writing is pretty straight forward and I rarely seem to come up with those sort of melodic sentences or paragraphs, but it's clear and concise and I'm at least pretty sure it gets the point across. Digs I'll use as another example because I've read her stuff before she posts, and she has her own style as well. Again, I can't really describe it, but it is uniquely her and I'd probably have a good chance of guessing she was the one who wrote something even if I didn't know.

So, how do you come up with your own style? I'd say you really don't. Write however comes naturally. You may wind up having to make some changes along the way that take some practice, but once you practice for a bit, that comes naturally, too. By that, I mean, like sentence structure. I was awful at varying sentence structure when I first started doing this, until someone pointed it out to me. It was all, "He did this. She did that. They went there." It's just very awkward to read if you start every sentence with your subject. Just varying it a tiny bit: "Later, they went there." Or, "After finishing cleaning up, she saw him." As opposed to, "She cleaned up and then she saw him. They went there later." Both get the same information across but by varying the sentences a bit it just makes it a little nicer to read. That is not to say you can never, ever have two similarly structured sentences in a row. This was just an example. And sometimes it is even a style choice to do so in order to get the point across. Like, say: "He wanted her. He needed her. He loved her." So once again, not a rule without room for some interpretation, just something to look out for.

It's funny, but sometimes you have to watch out when you read something in a particular style that really stuck out for you and then go to write something yourself you may find yourself somewhat mimicking the style. I think when Push asked me that question she was curious because she felt like she was getting too descriptive and wordy in her writing. I haven't felt she's crossed the line into too much (or if I did in something of hers I was reading, I told her) but sometimes we can get caught up in looking at what we perceive as flaws in our writing. I think she said when she first started this she wasn't all that descriptive, so she made a conscious effort to be descriptive until it just became her natural style of writing. I don't think there's anything wrong with this. Well, if you start to have like, seven adjectives in a row, then maybe you're getting too descriptive. But she uses it in a way that just really sets the scene for our readers. Even in the quickie challenge, which was quite short, we all had a very clear picture of where they were.

A lot of us maybe have writing tendencies that we have to watch out for because they might not be the best way to go. I find myself starting a lot of sentences with, "S/he only hoped that..." or, "Fortunately..." or, "Of course..." I don't know why. I do it all the time.*** Not just writing my stories, but in these blog posts, in e-mails I write to friends, everywhere! Again, it's not that it's wrong to start sentences that way, I just have to make sure that I don't do it too much within a story to the point where it gets noticeable and annoying to the reader.

So, again, can you change your style? I think yes. But I also think that you will still always have an inherent way that you would prefer writing, even if you try to push those instincts down and write another way. I'm sure I could write something that used a lot more interesting words and stuff you might have to use the dictionary to look up (I would have to first) but I don't think that with time that would become my preferred way to write. That said, sometimes you do have to make some changes, such as me with the sentence structure thing, in order for your 'style' to be worth reading. Those sorts of things can be changed with practice, and I'd also like to think that I've worked at it enough that it is not the case.

Whatever your style, I'd say you should do your best to just embrace it as your style. We are all our own worst critics and just recently I was saying how my writing is too straight forward and utilitarian, and Push was like, "Ugh, my stuff is too flowery and wordy!" Opposite problems, obviously, and while we feel that way about our own stuff, we were both quite complimentary to each other and saying that we're not "too" anything. It seems more like we each want to steal just a little bit of each other's style in order to balance ourselves out :)****

Style is tricky to pick out sometimes and at least to me even tougher to describe, but if it's something you've never noticed before, I'd encourage you to pay more attention the next time you're reading and think about whatever writing style you've been using.

2017 notes:

*The quickie challenge is tagged in the sidebar, literally just a bunch of stories of Han and Leia having quickie sex. So, enjoy. 

**I still think this is one of the most clever analogies I've ever read.

***And I still do this all the time, I can't seem to stop.

****In doing more reading of actual published books it has become apparent to me that lots of authors have very different styles. Some write in very interesting ways that are pleasant to read. Others write more straight forward like I do. Both ways get the story across, so it's ok to be more like one than the other and not feel "less than" if you aren't writing in some other way you think you "should" be writing.

One final note, one of the most unique writing styles I've come across is the late, great Carrie Fisher. I have never read anything from anyone who writes quite like she does. It's so unique to her that I don't think that it could be replicated. But I also think that life would be boring if everyone wrote like her. So, embrace your style and write the way you write.