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Yellow Houses - Blog Posts
thank you for the follow! just wanted to say hi since im a bit newer to the non fanfic side of writers on tumblr, and also that all your wips sound super interesting but especially yellow houses. in my brain it's giving little miss sunshine/moonrise kingdom/fantastic mr fox vibes but like slightly spookier
Thank you! That’s very kind of you.
Yellow Houses does have that type of whimsical vibe, so that’s a very cool connection. The project is currently shelved while I revise my current project, but I’ll get back to YH eventually. It was a neat little book. It’s been years though, so I don’t imagine I’ll be happy with it now.
Posting a link to my veryyy old wip intro for Yellow Houses below in case anyone is interested in reading what it’s about. It’s like a dark comedy/mystery set in a uni town with a bunch of art kids™
Hi! I know Yellow Houses is on the back burner project wise, but damn if I'm not curious about it! Could you tell me a bit more about the university that Ellen attends? Anything really from how it looks to the types of classes they offer to they types of unhinged students you'd see milling about?
Happily! Thank you for your interest.
Yellow Houses takes place in a “college town”, where you only have a handful of locals. The university is an old rickety building shaped like a cylinder. It’s not aesthetic to say the least, blocky with lil AC units jutting from the windows, etc. The vast majority of the students are in the environmental resource management program.
Excerpt:
Half the town was made up of rich college kids who enjoyed nature photography, skiing, shot-gunning beers before noon. During the winters they jumped in the lake in negative forty weather. There would be an ambulance parked up the street if Henry Baker were to have a stroke again; ready to drag him out of the lake by his blued, freckly legs.
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Share an out-of-context line from your wip. (this one’s from Yellow Houses!)
We didn’t have any pictures of him so they were all I had to stare at, which was rare, but when I did, I imagined him on a ferry crossing the Marmara Sea, nibbling on simit, dark hair flattened against his forehead from the breeze, contemplating the mess he’d made and regretting it immensely.