finished what

whovianerisa  asked:

Hello Mr gaiman. How old were you when you started writing stories ? I'm 14 and I try and try but they are all awful. I always give up in the middle and I can never finish what I wanted to write.

I know. I found a pile of papers of mine from my teen years and into my early twenties recently, and there were so many stories begun, so many first pages of novels never written. I’d start them, and then I’d give up because they weren’t as brilliant as Ursula K Le Guin, or Roger Zelazny, or Samuel R Delany, and anyway I wasn’t actually sure what happened next.

I was around 22 when I started finishing things. They weren’t actually very good, and they all sounded like other people, but the finishing was the important bit. I kept going. A dozen stories and a book, and then I sold one (it wasn’t very good, and I had to cut it from 8,000 words to 4,000 to sell it, but I sold it). I probably wrote another half-dozen stories over the next year, and sold three. But now they were starting to sound like me. 

Think of it this way: if you wanted to become a juggler, or a painter, you wouldn’t start jugggling, drop something and give up because you couldn’t juggle broken bottles like Penn Jillette, or start a few paintings then give up because the thing in your head was better than what your hands were getting onto the paper. You carry on. You learn. You drop things. You learn about form and shape and shade and colour and how to draw hands without the fingers looking like noodles. You finish things, learn from what you got right and what you got wrong, and then you do the next thing.


And one day you realise you got good. It takes as long as it takes. So keep writing. And all you need to do right now is try to finish things.

My Children Spending the Night Together

I’m sorry, it’s been such a long time since I posted anything ;w;
I’ve been doing commissions and being lazy.

I’m still learning proportions and foreshortening :’D

I’ve had a commission I’ve been slowly working on for months and I’m trying to crank out the last of it so it’s finally done. Soon, hopefully. In the meantime, look at these nice colors I managed to get. 

the first thing that strikes her is that roses make for poor crowns.  

lyanna has always loved winter roses, ever since she was a little girl.  she and her mother had picked them together, before ben was born.  they’d gone through the godswood and the glass gardens and her mother had told her that most roses grow better in the cold, that southron roses grow only in spring and summer, but winter roses are of the north.  “just like you,” lyarra stark had said, pressing lyanna’s nose and making her giggle.

lyanna remembers trying to weave a crown of winter roses while lisbeth cassell had woven one of daisies.  rose stems were thick, and solid, and promised a sturdiness that would do well for a crown of flowers. yet lisbeth’s chain of flowers had grown long enough for her to start a second, and a third to braid together, while lyanna’s hands kept getting pricked on the thorns, and when she did finish what seemed like hours later, the thorns had caught in her hair and scraped at her scalp.

you could cut the thorns off,” lisbeth had said, offering her a knife, but lyanna had shaken her head.  the thorns were what made roses roses and not lilies or daffodils or daisies.  you couldn’t just cut them off.

lyanna’s hands tremble as prince rhaegar extends the crown to her on the tip of her lance.  her throat is dry and she is frightened.  “i’ll not reveal your secret,” he’d told her.  but was this not a revelation, a violation of that promise?  surely everyone would know, or would at least suspect.  he should have given the crown to his wife.  the blue roses would look so lovely with her orange silks.  

“my lady,” the prince says, and lyanna lifts the roses from the lance.  their petals are so soft, and as she turns the wreath between her fingers, she finds that whoever made the crown stripped the thorns away.

when you finally have a day where you don’t have to study at ALL and you literally don’t know what to do with all the free time

Sorry for not being around much this week I’ve been helping a friend with some stuff and trying to stop the impending burnout

dinodata deleted their account?? wow guys guess who’s gonna make a dino blog??!?!?!?!!!

anonymous asked:

I was meant to be yours, we were meant to be one. Don't give up on me now, finish what we've begun.

OUR LOVE IS GOD!
(This is a heathers reference right??!)

10

Played with all five of the Puroland colors.

The ultra satin finish was not what I was expecting, but was lovely. Dry, but not uncomfortable.

And I must be getting better at applying liquid matte lipsticks, because I didn’t have any issues with these three!

My lining skills are still pretty wacky and I over filled one or two of these much more than I’m usually comfortable with. But overall I had fun and I like these colors even more than I expected.

Colors, in order:
Tiny Chum (ultra satin)
Lock Diary (ultra satin)
Mimmy (ultra matte)
Milk Bottle (ultra matte)
Ribbon (ultra matte)

anonymous asked:

Can you do please do Keith flirting headcanon?

ye here you go hehe i’m gonna go take my siesta after this


  • Keith isn’t naturally a smooth person like Lance, so that usually means he would have a difficult time trying to get his message across. That also means that he’s unbearably bad at flirting with the person he likes most.
  • He would stutter and sputter a lot as he tries to tell you a lame pick-up line—something he’s managed to pick up from Lance—that he wouldn’t even manage to finish his words at all. It would take him a few attempts before he could even finish what he wants to say, though by then, the mood is most definitely already ruined.
  • He would also blush a lot and try to avoid your gaze, looking down and opting to gaze at the floor instead. He isn’t comfortable being stared, being watched by someone he likes most. He feels vulnerable and exposed, like he’s being undressed.
  • On the rare occasions that it all becomes too much, too overwhelming for him, he runs away, dashing out of the scenario as quickly as his legs would take him. He would probably regret it a few minutes later, though it would take him a few hours to finally find the courage to apologize to you.
  • It would take him a long, long time and a lot of tries for him to be able to finally confess his feelings to you. He’s a little shy with opening up and telling people about his emotions, and it would take him a lot of courage for him to finally be able to do just that.

TLDR: As someone who is naturally averse to any kinds of affection and romance, Keith would have a difficult time trying to flirt with you. He might get a little shy and embarrassed sometimes, though even that wouldn’t stop him from trying once more.

4 song fsts; the core four

just a little project done for the fun of it, nothing to take too seriously. please enjoy! ❤

ALSO LISTEN the four more | four otps | four ships | four friendships

❣ archie andrews

I’m lost at sea, the radio is jamming but they won’t find me; I swear its for the best. 

❣ betty cooper

and the scars are still there in the mirror, everyday that she gets herself dressed.

❣ jughead jones

it seems so frightening, time passes by like lightning; before you know it you’re struck down.

❣ veronica lodge

if I could change anything, I think I would start with the name — the truth is all those angels started acting the same.


I’m polishing the story for all 3 chapters and so far it’s going good but slow.

I told myself to be done with all of it this week but all this writing is impossible for me to finish before friday, what was I thinking? 

I know I’m just re-writing things, adding/deleting sentences but this is taking such a long time for me to do x_x it’s gonna take me a month to finish all 70 pages…

wish me good luck qwq