the best plot twists of the locked tomb are when it unapologetically fucks genre over and over again—it’s a fantasy story in a sci-fi setting, it’s a whodunnit meets battle royale, it’s a coming-of-age romance at the forefront of a colonial imperialist dystopia, it’s a psychological thriller and a ghost story bubbling in a stew of homosexuality and queerness, it’s a ball of literature references wrapped around memes and pop culture, it’s a slice of life in a cake of political intrigue, and turns out it’s ultimately a climate fiction horror story on steroids
my favorite thing about reading the locked tomb is having no FUCKING clue what’s going on ever. especially the first time you read it. every name is the most complicated grouping of letters you’ve ever seen and nothing that’s happening makes any sense. but then you get to the end and it all supposedly clicks into place and you think you have it figured out. and then tamsyn changes direction entirely and writes the next book from a different pov in a different tense and adds a million more layers to everything you thought you knew and then just when you think you actually have a grip on what’s happening this time… nona. i fucking love it
I am learning the art of being soft but not weak, to be loving but not afraid, to be strong enough to let it go but not to forget the lessons I learned
laceerainspoetry, Soft. (via empiregrotesk)
Source: wnq-writers.com
Remember that misuse of language can lead to miscommunication, and that miscommunication leads to everything that has ever happened in the whole of the world.
Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor, Welcome to Night Vale The Novel (via carissaleeblog)
First forget inspiration. Habit is more dependable. Habit will sustain you whether you’re inspired or not. Habit will help you finish and polish your stories. Inspiration won’t. Habit is persistence in practice.
Octavia E. Butler, “Furor Scribendi” in
Bloodchild and Other Stories
(via
)
And as we sat there listening to the carolers, I wanted to tell Brian it was over now and everything would be okay. But that was a lie, plus, I couldn’t speak anyway. I wish there was some way for us to go back and undo the past. But there wasn’t. There was nothing we could do. So I just stayed silent and trying to telepathically communicate how sorry I was about what had happened. And I thought of all the grief and sadness and fucked up suffering in the world, and it made me want to escape. I wished with all my heart that we could just leave this world behind. Rise like two angels in the night and magically… disappear.
kuanios
“A child free from the guilt of ownership and the burden of economic competition will grow up with the will to do what needs doing and the capacity for joy in doing it. It is useless work that darkens the heart. The delight of the nursing mother, of the scholar, of the successful hunter, of the good cook, of the skillful maker, of anyone doing needed work and doing it well—this durable joy is perhaps the deepest source of human affection, and of sociality as a whole.”
— Ursula K. Le Guin, The Dispossessed (via kitduckworth)
But here’s a little secret for you: no one is ever the same thing again after anything. You are never the same twice, and much of your unhappiness comes from trying to pretend that you are. Accept that you are different each day, and do so joyfully, recognizing it for the gift it is. Work within the desires and goals of the person you are currently, until you aren’t that person anymore, and everything changes once again.
Welcome to Night Vale: Episode 75: Through the Narrow Place (via andrewmicah)
also re: teens sitting around with their tablets and smartphones
like, if a kid can access the internet (with some privacy still) while also sitting in the same room as their parents, honestly that’s better and more social than what I did as a teenager, which was hole up in my room at my desktop computer that I couldn’t move anywhere else in the house
mostly what I see from the teens in my family is they will sit and scroll through their phone, but if something interesting starts happening, or a new person enters the room, or they see something cool they want to share, they look up and interact again, because they’re sitting right there with everyone else.
that is waaaay more social than 2002 me, hunched over my desktop for hours and only seeing my mom in passing when I went to microwave a burrito at 1am. way, way more social.
My whole family does this now. We’re all in the same room, but each on a phone, tablet, or laptop. Certain poop heads will shake their heads at how technology is dividing us.
But
Like
What do they think families have done for since ever? Talk constantly while playing educational board games every evening? No.
They’d each be reading, or sewing, or writing letters or some shit, and mostly sat quietly near each other but not bothering each other.
yes this
It reminds me of the whole “omg people on trains used to TALK to each other” argument. No, they didn’t. They read the newspaper or stared straight ahead avoiding eye contact.
fangirl challenge → [1/8] movies The Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers
It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something. There’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo and it’s worth fighting for.