i was not about to ink all that no way

How To Motivate Yourself To Write

This was meant to provide motivation, but honestly, this is more of a list of ways to make sure you get it done, rather than make yourself “motivated”. Either way, this should benefit you somehow.


  • In the words of Chuck Wendig, “do not fucking multitask”. Carve out a specific time to write and use it to write. Don’t try to simultaneously write and tweet and check your email. Whether it be 15 minutes or 2 hours, write, and only write.
  • Take breaks occasionally. You can’t just sit there and fog up your creative lens. Go outside and go for a walk. Go to coffee with your friends for an hour. Do something to relax your brain for a while. It’s the same with studying. Don’t drive yourself up the wall because you feel you’re “on a roll”. Your ideas and plans will still be there when you get back. If you begin to get frustrated or your foot starts to fall asleep, take a break.
  • Use a rewards system. Say, for every 100 words, you get a piece of chocolate. After eating a regular sized Hershey’s bar, you’ve got 1200 words. Go you! (I personally fine this incredibly useful.)
  • Have people you trust hold you accountable. Have your best friend (or partner, if you’ve got one) check in when they know you should be writing to make sure you did.
  • Read books like a writer. Read a shitty book and pick it apart to find what you don’t like about it. Read a good book to find what you do like. Use these reflections and apply them to your own work. Nothing helps quite like learning from other people’s mistakes and success.
  • Don’t get stuck in the planning stages. You may get really excited while planning a story, that huge plot twist, a minor character’s backstory, etc, but keep in mind that at some point you’re going to have to sit down and hash it out. A lot of promising writers never get past the planning stages, so in the words of my very wise boyfriend: “Just write”.
  • Write in places that make your creative juices flow. Get cozy in bed with your laptop open to a word document, light a few candles, make some tea, get that incense going, and write. Music really helps to get in the mood as well, and if you would like to take a look at my writing playlist, here it is, free for public consumption.
  • Keep your mind open to new ideas and changes to your story. Your idea will develop and evolve over time, and the beauty of writing is that you can change anything you want and there are no consequences. If you decide to completely scrap a character, remove a subplot, add one in, or change the plot but keep the same characters, you’re totally free to do so. Nothing about writing is set in stone, so stay open minded to new concepts and changes and, most importantly, criticism. (I won’t elaborate on this because I might end up making a whole other post about this topic in the future.)

As always, this is just a compilation of the tips and tricks I’ve found the most useful in my own experience. They may not help, they may help a lot, it really could go either way or somewhere in between, but all the same, I hope this proves useful to you.

Request a prompt list/writing advice/playlist/study help post here

you failed? go on cry it all out, be angry, be disappointed, complain all that you want. but i want you to think about a couple of things: will it affect your life in any way? are you going to remember it in 10 years, 5 years or even in a year? i bet you won’t so don’t think you are a failure, don’t hate on yourself. you will make mistakes, you will fail hard but you will also learn from them, you will grow and you will get better.

In a universe parallel to this one, you and I stay up some nights, holding hands in bed, worrying about all the versions of ourselves that don’t end up together. Parallel You says, “Somewhere we never even kiss.” Parallel Me says, “Somewhere we never even touch." Parallel You supposes that the universe in which we never cross paths must be a kinder one than the universe where we make the effort to love each other and fail at it so miserably that we part ways and never speak again. Parallel Me says, "That universe doesn’t exist.” Parallel You says, “That’s not how this works.”
—  trista mateer
I wish you would look at me the way you used to.
I wish you would hold my hand and tell me that it was all just a bad dream.
I wish you would hold me tightly in your arms as I told you the story of what happened.
I wish you would gently press your lips to mine as assurance that it was only a nightmare.
I wish it would go back to the way it used to be.
You and me.
Me and you.
I wish you would love me the way I love you.
—  11:11 is a lie;L.L.
I want to forget the world the way the world forgets about me. The way she goes on and on with or without my presence. I want to forget it all, as I slowly begin to fade away in time.
—  Lukas W. // To forget the world
All I Want in this life, is for someone to love, cherish, and speak about me the way Ed Sheeran sings about women. And the way John Green writes about a young teenage boy’s love for a beautiful girl.
—  Kayla Ross
(@kajlaross)
Maybe when I am in New York City, I will visit a old book shop, bump right into you, Go to a coffee shop, talk about anything and everything, visit the museum of modern art, share true love first kiss, in front of Vincent Van Gogh starry night, go back to your hotel, my hands in your hair, your hands touching my face, looking into each other’s eyes, experience cosmo bliss Or I am one minute late, It was rainy, I forgot my umbrella, I had to run back and get it, I just missed you at the bookstore, I went to the museums alone, took a selfie in front of Van Gogh starry night by myself, went back to the hotel all alone, daydreamed about you, what it be like kissing you.
If it’s meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other, If we don’t, It wasn’t meant to be, no matter what, if I see you tomorrow, or in 10 years, or never again I love you, darling, I know you will love you me too.
Our love is epic, I know not many people walk this earth feeling what we did for each other, we’re pretty special sweetie.
It is May and the nights blend together like butter and honey or peaches and cream, but not both. Which is to say, nothing is going how I thought it would. This is last June in reverse. The boxes are filling themselves. I am sleeping next to the packing tape. The old hurt is spilling out everywhere. My heart is buzzing again. My heart is a wasp’s nest. My heart is a monument to absence. A postcard that says: YOU WERE HERE ONCE, BUT YOU’RE NOT ANYMORE. All of my dreams are about being weightless. Leaving the heaviness outside and praying for rain in Texas. I put my regret into a box and write FREE TO A GOOD HOME on the side of it. I still hope everyone who walks by has the good sense not to pick it up. I am waiting for someone other than myself to call this predictable. To tell me it had to go this way. To say, I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU REALLY EXPECTED.
—  SEPARATION IN THE AMERICAN SOUTH by Trista Mateer
I used to think friendship was sleepovers and play dates.
Now I know it’s not.
Friendship is three in the morning talks about what happened the day before and why the hell you’re still awake.
Friendship is three in the afternoon laughing so hard you’re on the floor at a corny joke for the third time that day.
Friendship is sitting there eating in silence because you would rather eat than talk (and they would too).
Friendship is love in the strangest ways when all else is lost.
—  friends // s.e.
There is this physical pain in my chest
when I think of you;
of all the things that once used to make me smile
and the few things that still do,
the way you seem so open about yourself
and how you are not ashamed
to speak of the things you love.
And I am so deeply torn
between loving you with everything I have
and drowning in the bitterness
that this love is accompanied by
that it nearly blows my mind;
both freezes and heats up my blood
and seems too much and not enough.
—  // tell me that nothing has changed
j.d.m.

Dear you-know-who-you-are,

today is one of those days i think of you. it’s hard to tell you why but i just do. today i forget about all the bad we’ve been through and reminisce about all the good. today i miss you. i miss how you made me laugh and feel some type of way. did you know you were the only one who loved me for me? you cared for me in the purest way. i never needed make-up, hair extensions or fancy clothes. there was no point in all of that. all you had eyes for was my soul. today i think of that because it was beautiful. but sometimes beauty requires an ugly price to pay. yet today i close my eyes to the ugly. only today.

My favorite thing about you is how that laugh can brighten the night sky.
My favorite thing about us is how well we fit together, I can lay with you all day.
My favorite thing about you is the way kids fall in love with you so easily, kinda like I did.
My favorite thing about us is the way we stay up till dawn just talking about anything, absolutely anything.
My favorite thing about me is how I became a better person from the day I met you.

This is not really a drawing, but I want to tell the story about all of this. I got so much people saying: “this is so simple (but cool)” and I am really appreciate it. But the in real life before I get to this really simple and cute drawing I have to go through the long way to the thing that I really like. The point is it might look simple, but don’t think this takes less time then bigger drawings😌

More of @doodledrawsthings Hell’s Studio AU. Sorry for the spamming, but my God, this AU is too adorable.

I send a message to Doodle about an idea I had regarding how the toons mainly drink ink, since they’re made of the stuff. Other things like colored ink would make then all drunk in different ways, white out would make them feel emotional numb, and invisible ink would make them, well, invisible.

The idea was Sumi (Japanese ink used for painting and writing), and how it could be like the equivalent to hard candy or other forms of sweets to the toons. I’m talking about the stick versions of Sumi, which can look really fancy. There are different colored Sumi sticks too, which I could see being like different flavors.

*Pictures Bendy and the others munching on Sumi sticks between breaks in the studio* XD

Fantasizing about boys felt like a healing paper cut: uncomfortable, but manageable.
While imagining a future with a man I mistook the relief of companionship for romance, and the anxiety for chemistry.
When I pictured him saying ‘you’re mine’, it felt like being trapped, too possessive, I did not want my heart stolen but at least being kept in a cage would keep me safe.
Dreaming about kissing boys seemed acquiescent, as long as my eyes were glued shut the entire time. This was love, right?

When I saw her for the first time I was mesmerized and I have never wanted to give up custody of my own heart more;
She felt like home, like freedom, and all the discomfort I had assumed was natural melted, just like I did whenever she touched me.
Her laughter reminded me why the earth revolved around the sun and when we kissed it felt like I had found the world’s greatest treasure without even searching for it.
When I imagine a lifetime with her it doesn’t feel cumbersome anymore and I realize it was meant to feel this way all along.

anonymous asked:

Hi! Could you write something about soulmates. Like Betty having an abusive boyfriend and all the bruises and cuts show up on Jughead. And there is soulmates in the world so it's not unusual, but Jughead keeps getting injuries from Betty and starts writing on his arm to her and she rights back to him and can you continue this please thank you.

I lovveee these soulmate aus!
****

“Dude what the hell is that?”

Jughead looked up, confused by the sharp and disgruntled tone of his red headed best friend.

“What’s what?” He raised a confused brow, his eyes scanning his surroundings, searching for something off.

Archie reached for him, pulling Jugheads tanned arm up and into the air, shoving his wrist into his face

“This! Dude if your dad is beating on you again, you can tell me. You know you’re always welcome back at my place, my dad…”

Archie’s voice faded away as Jughead stared at the dark purple and blue bruises littering his arm, fingerprints left nasty circle shapes and some were faded and yellow, they’d clearly been there for a long time. How was that possible? There was no way he wouldn’t have noticed them and he couldn’t remember banging into someone , not to mention he was absolutely positive no one had left those marks on his body, it really wasn’t possible, unless..

“They’re not mine” he whispered, more to himself than anything, his eyes still glued to his arm.

“What are you talking about? Of course they’re yours, bruises don’t just show up, I mean it’s not like.. oh…” Archie trailed off finally understanding

It was Jugheads soulmate.

In life when you’re looking for the one you’re meant to be with, pieces of them become pieces of you. It happens suddenly but there’s no way to know when you’ll meet them. It had happened with Archie last year one day the football player came to school, his lips bright red and clearly made up, Jughead had nearly wet himself, he had laughed so hard as the boy desperately wiped at his mouth, smearing lipstick down his arm.

“It’s my soulmate! Clearly she likes wearing stupid ass lipstick”

Two days later he had met Veronica Lodge at the Riverdale mall, pearls on her neck and deep purple lipstick on her lips plus the addition of two thick black smudges under her eyes, eerily similar to the eye chalk Archie wore to football practice everyday.They had been inseparable ever since.

He watched in amazement as another bruise formed right before his eyes, a deep red welt, similar to the belt lashings he used to get when his father was an alcoholic. It didn’t hurt Jughead physically but the ache in his chest at his “soulmate” having to go through this, made him feel positively violent. Picking his bag up and walking out Archie’s front door, he gripped the bruises on his arm, willing them to stop, wishing he could make them stop for her, she didn’t deserve this, no one did. It was dark by the time he got to the trailer park, his mood volatile and nasty, his father was working on some bike in the front yard and he waved at his son. Jughead stormed past the older man and locked himself in his room, ripping the jeans from his body he stood in the mirror observing his body, sure enough he was covered in the painless bruises.

His eyes filled with tears and he was surprised when he couldn’t hold them back, he hadn’t cried since he was eight years old and his mother left. The door to his bedroom opened slowly and his father stepped in, eyes going wide at his sons bruised body before understanding took over, F.P jones sat on the edge of the bed and held his son as he cried helplessly.

“There’s nothing I can do.” He sniffled
“I can’t help her, I don’t even know her but I can feel her dad” he looked at the bruises once again, his fists clenching “I want to kill whoever did this.” He whispered.

F.P nodded
“I know you do, but right now you can only do so much. So do what you do best.” He rose from the bed, walking over to Jughead desk and handing him a pen

“Write”

With that he shot his son a knowing smile and slowly closed the door.

Jughead lifted the pen too his arm and took a deep breath.
***

Betty threw herself on her bed, her body aching from the beating she had just taken. She had tried to break up with Chuck again, she had tried so many times but each time it had ended exactly the same, Betty laying bloody on the floor begging for the angry boys forgiveness.

She rested her face on the soft silk pillowcase and bit her tongue, she had learned not to cry out, never let anyone see the bruises, be quiet Betty Cooper. Be perfect.

She couldn’t do it anymore, she was tired, so damn tired of being perfect. She wanted to go away, to sleep, sleep forever.

She reached into her nightstand and pulled out the tube of concealer, lifting the soft white sweater , fully prepared to cover up the bruises she knew would be visible in cheerleading practice tommorow, what she didn’t expect to see was the messy scrawl scribbled across her bruises

“You’re so much stronger than they are. You’re stronger than all of that white noise. You’re going to be okay, don’t let go. JJ”

Tears pricked her eyes. Her soulmate. She had one. she had gone so long believing she would never have one, destined to be passed around with the other mate less teenagers. She gripped her arm to her chest and let her tears fall freely, he was there and he could feel her, feel her pain. She wasn’t alone anymore.

Grabbing the purple gel pen off of her desk, she began writing back.

***

Jughead stared tirelessly at his arm, he didn’t even know if she was getting his messages, this could all be pointless, suddenly though, his arms were filled with distinctly feminine cursive in sparkly ink.

“Thank you JJ, it’s nice to meet my soulmate . Im sorry it had to be under such horrible circumstances. I’m Betty Cooper”

Betty Cooper? He knew that name, had heard Archie mention it a few times, but from where? He didn’t have time to think about that, ripping up his sleeve even higher he began writing again.

“It’s good to meet you in any way, although I do wish it wasn’t like this as well. Are you okay?”

He smiled when the reply was almost instant

“I’m okay, much better now that I know you’re here.”

They spent all night writing back and forth, Jugheads heart felt lighter that morning at school, and it was a fairly noticeable difference.
Archie of course made a huge deal out of it and Jughead found himself rolling his eyes at lunch when the football player went on about how awesome double dates would be from now on.

“Speaking of going out, i promised Ronnie, I’d meet her at central point park for that concert tonight, shes bringing her friend who’s going through a shitty breakup, i figured you could come along be like a fourth wheel. I promise you can write to your soulmate alllll night if you want.” Archie teased.

Jughead rolled his eyes, reluctantly agreeing.

***

Betty was sore that morning but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face, her soulmate was amazing, he loved writing and reading and they shared similar tastes in movies and he made her laugh like no one else.

“So you’ll come?” Veronica asked, snapping Betty out of her thoughts and pulling her gaze away from the faded words on her arms

“Hmm? Yeah sure, of course.” She answered,dazed.

“Alright love bird, we’re gonna enjoy ourselves tonight at the concert. Maybe you can find some lyrics to write to lover boy” Veronica smiled lovingly at her best friend, excited to see the blonde looking genuinely happy for the first time in ages.

“Maybe” Betty grinned.

***
That night came by fast and Betty took one last look at the words she had just written JJ

“Gotta go Romeo, talk to you later?”

She smiled when the familiar handwriting appeared

“You got it Juliet.”

Betty and Veronica stepped from the car, Betty’s hand tucked in Veronica’s as they navigated the grassy area

“Ronnie! We don’t have to run, I’m sure we wont miss him, that bright red hair is kind of hard not to spot.” She giggled.

Veronica waved her eyebrows suggestively
“I happen to like redheads.”

Betty laughed
“I know, I was there when you started dating Chery Blossom last year.” Betty rolled her eyes

“I don’t discriminate. Love is love and all that” she grinned.

“Speaking of love.”

Both the girls whipped around at the familiar voice and Veronica instantly ran into her boyfriends arms

“Archiekins!”

Archie laughed squeezing his girlfriend,

“Jughead this is Veronica’s best friend, Betty Cooper meet Jughead Jones.”

Jughead nearly dropped the novel he had gripped in his hands as he looked at the beautiful blonde with the bright green eyes and matching blue bruise on her chin, she was even more beautiful than he could have imagined, the very definition of a masterpiece.

“JJ” she whispered, her eyes scanning his and landing on his arms. She was smiling nervously, her fingers fidgeting as she slowly stood in place.

Jughead couldn’t keep the grin off of his face
“ hey there Juliet” he whispered, pulling his sleeves up as she gently rested her fingers on his inkstained arms.

She let out a breathy giggle and before he knew it she was falling into his arms, his own strong arms coming to wrap around her body, covering her and protecting her, now that he found her he was never letting her go.

She looked into his eyes and let the tears fall from hers

“I’ve been waiting for you Jughead Jones.”

He laughed, dropping a kiss to her lips
“You have no idea Betty Cooper”

Don’t get me wrong now… but my life was fine before I met you and I’m sure it’ll be fine after you leave. However… I don’t want fine, normal, or ordinary. I want you… and maybe sometimes that means mayhem, tears, or heartbreak… but I don’t care. I’d take it all… because along the way… you gave my life color and it wasn’t just fine anymore… it was beyond extraordinary… you gave me the ride of my life.
— 

-I fine with fine, but I don’t want fine. I want you.

-m.t.t.

There are boxes of clementines
in the kitchen and the thing is that
I love you again. The thing is that
I love what orange tastes like so
I eat too much of it and end up sick.
Last year, I brought up questions
about mending after loss
and all orange could bring was 
eye spasms and stomach aches.
But now the only pain left is left
in rinds, and there are plenty of ways  
to remove it from the heart.
I won’t do it, though. Instead, I will
mock the break with more breaking
and eat all the clementines again.
I only say “again” because
I don’t know how to say
I never stopped.
—  Alessia Di Cesare, The Side Effects of Eating Too Many Clementines
There is something so terrible about the way that I love you… I love you in crashing waves and unexpected passion. I love you in aches and paine and mood swings and distance and doing my best not to care. I love you awfully, I love you terribly and horribly and I am trying to not love at all.
—  Emma Workman