Plans for 2022:
Write 300 poems.
Finish Hawksbane as well as the current fic project I'm working on and the sequel to last year's project.
Write my academic paper. Make it fucking good.
Read 50 books and 10,000 pages.
Submit something once a month.
Learn Italian. Work on French and maybe German.
the body expresses what language cannot || transcription below
This is important and valid for all arts. As a writer you get to decide which feedback helps you tell YOUR story best, and which feedback doesn’t serve that purpose. I find that some of the harshest feedback from other writers and audience members can be boiled down to, “I wanted you to tell a different story.” This doesn’t help me tell the story I’m aiming for, and goes straight in the bin.
"I wanted you to tell a different story," seams to describe a lot of criticism.
Writing fanfic or making fanart, or original fic and art, seems a much healthier response.
the sheer offensiveness of rereading something you wrote, discovering that, hey, it’s actually pretty good, and then reaching the end, wherein you realize that if you want more you actually have to write it
fuck’s sake
writers will look at their own WIPs and be like “is anyone gonna finish that” and then close the tab
Everyone keeps writing about how they can’t show their google history to people because it’s full of suspicious stuff they researched for their writing, and here I am too embarrassed to show people my google history because all I do is google definitions to words I definitely know the meanings to but need to double triple check just in case.
tragedy as a genre asks us repeatedly “why did this have to happen?”. why did medea kill her children? why did lear reject the only daughter who truly loved him? why cant estragon and vladimir simply walk away? we can accept the idea that these are events made inevitable by some facet of the characters personalities. we can argue that circumstances forced their hand. but ultimately we dont have these answers and thats why i think tragedy. is a genre so given to retellings and repetition. the why is tantalizing — maybe if we play it again, we can figure out where it went wrong. so anyways as always we’re back at hadestown’s “its a sad song, but we sing it anyway. to know how it ends, and still begin to sing it again, as if it might turn out this time …”
“it's the same old story, it starts with a lamb and ends with the murder of the very person you should love most”
josé saramago, cain
humans: i am worthless. i cannot do anything.
also humans: *sings in the bathroom* *writes poems* *provides trees with CO2* *swims* *studies* *reads autobiographies* *proposes to their s/o* *passes a compliment* *stares at the moon* *takes shitty pictures of the sunset* *shouts fuck for no reason* FUCK! *hugs you* *talks* *doesn't like to be touched* *dances late at night* *says i love you* *says i hate you(affectionate)* :)
he is half of my soul, as the poets say. (the song of achilles)
mahmoud darwish // dacia maraini, tr. by tim vide “dreams of clytemnestra” // ocean vuong “on earth we’re briefly gorgeous” // christa wolf “cassandra: a novel and four essays” // “planet of love” richard siken // @coyote-graveyard // warsan shire “conversations about home” // “carmilla” joseph sheridan le fanu // louise glück “the triumph of achilles”// haruki murakami “kafka on the shore” // phillip pullman “the amber spyglass”
𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟷𝟽, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟻 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹
