Named after her birthplace after Mrs. East went into slightly premature labor at Granny East’s old place, she tended to go by Victoria or Vicky, but was known to sign as B.V. East if she felt it would impress anybody. In her daydreams, “B.V. East” would adorn the cover of a bestselling novel, both for the cachet that came with double initial writing (just ask E.L. James or George R.R. Martin!) and to keep the elder members of the East clan from being shocked.
They were the sort of folks who wrote greeting cards and Bible studies, nothing else, and even though Vicky joined them in the pews every Sunday and Wednesday as Granny East insisted, her mind was always elsewhere. Not on her job as a medical transcriptionist, but on the elaborate fictions that lived in her head. Vicky wrote prolifically on AO3, delightedly sprinkling supernatural beings into mundane shows and films and chronicling the ensuing chaos and romance.
In fact, “bje_222” had close to a hundred followers. But whenever she tried to give life to her own characters and ideas, the things she desperately wanted to write, to sell, to own, nothing was ever good enough. Things would be revised into oblivion because they were never as good on paper. One day though–one day her skull would crack open, hatch the ideas that had been percolating inside, and give life to a work that would bring fame, fortune, fulfillment.
One day.
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