my writer feels

When was the last time you fell in love?”
She sat quietly collecting fragments of yesterday’s events.
“We were sitting and looking at each other, despite that the lights were all off except for that one in the back that illuminated our features barely. Suddenly, all the lights were on, and I swear I saw happiness swarming in as his eyes he looked into mine saying ‘Damn, your eyes look even more beautiful’. I fucking swear, my heart was all his in that moment and beyond.
—  I fall for your eyes every single time // r.k

anonymous asked:

RE: the post about comments on fics -- how do you feel about bookmarks? I've always been shy about commenting on fic, but i always bookmark a fic i enjoy and leave a kudos if i don't. sometimes i worry about whether the authors pay attention to those things too.

I feel a lot of complicated things about kudos, bookmarks, and commenting, and I’m going to be honest about it, but I want to assure you this is not directed at you personally, it’s just my general thoughts and feelings.

Up front, I can say that authors absolutely pay attention to all forms of reader interaction, from kudos to reblog tags to literally everything. We are starving for any amount of feedback and attention and scrap of praise because they are few and far between these days. Personally, I enjoy/crave all forms of interaction with readers, because it helps me to feel less like I am just shouting words into the Void.

That being said, my feelings on Kudos are that they are basically next to worthless. Literally the only value in a kudos is that if a writer manages to somehow collect enough of them, readers sorting on AO3 by number of kudos might find their fic closer to the top of the list. If that ability to sort was not an option, I think I honestly would rather not receive a kudos at all, because JUST a kudos (again, to me) says “you fic just barely didn’t suck enough that I managed to click 1 button in return.” So like… yeah, I guess I like to receive the notifications that people read my fic, but at the same time wow is it a blow to my self esteem to be reminded people read my fic and that’s all they felt it was worth. 1 click. And the longer the fic is, the more effort I’ve put into it (for instance, 2 years of my life and 200k+ words and a LOT of love), the harder that blow strikes. It feels like having written a 200k word love letter to the fandom and just getting the “X has read your message” notification at the bottom of a text convo. (Kudos have exactly 1 merit; when I receive a notification with 1 person’s name on a bunch of my fics at once, I love that. I love knowing someone liked one fic enough to go and read the rest. That’s… that is nice. That’s when I know a kudos is not just “I read it”).

Bookmarks are slightly better, in that it at least tells me that a reader wants to be able to find the work again, hopefully to reread it. Bookmarks with notations for why the fic was bookmarked or with notations regarding what the reader needs to read to remind themselves which fic it is, are even better. Those things tell me a reader not only wants to find the fic again, but enjoyed it for X reasons. I like that. Some of my favorite bookmarks have been ones where people just added quotes of their favorite lines to the bookmarks, with nothing else added, because that tells me they liked words I wrote. I guarantee you that I go through all the bookmarks on all my fics at least once a month to look for those kinds of bookmarks.

All of that being said… I miss comments. I am not ashamed to admit this- I miss them SO MUCH. I wrote in fandom maybe a good 15 years ago, when was the big name in fic and their commenting system sucked so much but so many more people left comments without the kudos button cop-out. I remember writing back at the ends of fics because there was no reply feature on comments. I literally formed two lifelong friendships with people who regularly commented on fics I wrote. I formed several other friendships that helped me through some of the most desperately lonely and hard years of my young adulthood, all because people just commented on fics.

And that kind of community is just… so lacking in many fandoms these days. I started writing for a new, small rarepair fandom community not long ago, and I’ve been blown away by how nice folks have been in comments, and I’ve started making friends with regulars again and oh, I cannot express how nice it feels to NOT feel like i’m shouting into the void anymore. I will literally stay here forever and write a million stories for this pairing if people continue to be so kind. And I know a lot of writers can relate to that feeling (because I know a lot of writers, and they tell me so). It doesn’t take a lot for a fandom to take care of its fanfiction writers, and yet… often it’s just not happening. And we notice that, too- we notice when people don’t respond.

So, like. Yeah. This went a lot of directions, I’m sorry, you’re just the first person to ever ask me. To answer you in short, trust me, we notice when you respond to our writing in literally any way, because we are starving for it. If you bookmark things, we definitely notice it.

I drink to drown my sorrows
I want to feel everything
Yet nothing at all at the same time
I’m not sure what’s for better or worse
To feel numb or to feel everything
I’m still trying to figure out what it could be
—  tequila

I’m trying so hard to beat you at your own game. I want to wait to read your messages for hours, to see your messages and not reply. I wish I could play along, I thought I had it in me to act like I don’t care. To be honest I didn’t think I would ever care again.

But here I am, you took 6 hours to reply to my message and I am using every ounce of strength to not open and reply to you after only 2 minutes.

—  I hate that this is such an uneven playing field 
But do you know what’s absolutely beautiful? Falling in love with the same person over and over again, because it shows that you’re never done with loving them, it shows that you are loving them every second of the day despite everything.
—  The Art of Falling in Love // r.k
I keep thinking of everything we’ve had, the countless memories we’ve made, and it just dawns on me how we’re here now. There’s so much staleness in place of the ripeness we used to have. I think of the times where we couldn’t get our hands off each other. How every second we spent together was an adventure. It feels so foreign, almost like a dream from another lifetime. We were so happy, so excited, so joyful. Where did it all go? How are we just two people occupying the same space now?


April 1 2017

That feeling when you miss someone so much not knowing if they miss you or even think of you at all.
—  Tenari Ioapo // Thoughts that kill you.
Seeing you with her makes my stomach churn. She gets to talk to you, she gets to know you, she gets to walk with you everyday, she gets to text you, she gets to call you, she gets be with you every second of the day. Not me.
—  she // 12:50pm

Reminder. If you’re rping a canon character and feeling insecure about your writing, or fearing replacement, simply remember that your muse is not just a duplicate. No one else will be able to breathe life into that character the way you do. No one else will feel the exact way you feel about your muse. There will be people who value your muse and never stop writing with you no matter what. There will be people who appreciate your portrayal, no matter how many other versions are out there. Always remember why you made your blog. Never let anyone or anything cast your passion out of your heart !!

I would say I’m sorry but I know I owe you so much more than that. I would write you a letter but I’m afraid you’ll see who it was from and immediately throw it away without ready rhe first line. If I could I would visit you hoping that you wouldn’t slam the door in my face. I would say i’m sorry but I don’t even know where to begin to tell you how sorry I truly am. For now I will just sit here continue staring at an empty piece of paper until I can think of words that are worth the read.
—  Tenari Ioapo // Apology to the love of my life.
1. You look at a map of a city you’ve never been to.
You see patterns and street names and they tell you nothing. The map remains dead, the city unknown.
2. You go to the city you’ve never been to.
It becomes a city you know.
3. You look at a map of a city you’ve been to, but have left behind. As you look at the map, you remember.
You are looking at nostalgia. You walk through street names and remember the taste of cake in the café whose name you forgot, but you remember its yellow walls and comfy chairs. A square is no longer four lines on a map, but an open space with people and statues and laughter and a fountain in the center. The monotonous, two-dimensional blue that indicates an ocean turns into postcard memories, so many shades of blue and green and the smell of salt and fish. The famous building with the famous name that everyone knows is now a personal experience, it is yours and yours alone in a way that will never make it anyone else’s. A billion feet have walked these (now familiar) paths and two of them were yours. You can trace the steps you have taken and you remember feelings and colours and strangers who offered you a smile. There is the hostel you slept in, there is the river you crossed so many times, there is the corner where you listened to the most amazing street musician. You fondly whisper street names that you had trouble pronouncing when you first spoke them, clumsily. You connect dots, and they turn to images in your head.
The map is alive, the city an old friend.
4. The map you look at is always the same; the perception is different. It is you who has changed.
—  p.s. // every time i look at a map I have a feeling that is hard to put into words

I want to get drunk and forget that you never loved me, that my life is broken.

But 2 bottles down and the thought of you still lingered in my heart, your dreamy face was all my eyes could see .

By the third bottle I gave up. I gave up on trying to give you up. I no longer had the energy to fight thoughts you, so I let them all consume me, every ounce of my body.
Only death could’ve extricated me from such misery.

And I must have known it all along for from the second we met… I started digging my own grave.

—  MD
I tried really hard to be happy; I swear to god I did. But, it seems, every inhale I take makes me long for the last, every broken heart I suffer through tempts me to shatter ten of those around me, and every glance at the sky reminds me of the weightlessness I lost years ago. It was so much easier when I danced through life without a second thought; when I truly could move like no one was watching. Now, I wring my hands dry of the urge to shake those with lovesick smiles lazily drawn on their faces. It takes everything in me to restrain myself from taking them by the ear and shouting.
(you fool, don’t you know that the higher the climb the harder the crash? and your wings will one day melt. and when they do, you’ll drown in the misery you’ve neglected.)
—  WHAT A CURSE // k.m.

You say: ‘just stay for one more night okay? We can make this work.’

She sits there quietly. ‘Okay,’ she says, letting her head rest on your chest.
Tomorrow she will leave you with the taste of blood oranges between your teeth, but for now she curls up in your arms and kisses your neck before falling asleep.

‘We could make this work,’ you whisper softly, as if trying to pervade her dreams, ‘I promise, we really could.’ You want to hold onto her forever.

Tomorrow she will pack her bags and say goodbye. It will be like the two of you never shared a thing. ‘I have to go,’ she will say, ‘please understand.’ You worry that one day she will see you as a stranger.

You hold a ticking time bomb in your arms but you’ve never felt safer or more at home. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. ‘Let’s not worry about that’. Somewhere somehow you have always known: she may have been yours temporarily, but she has always been her own.
—  S.Z. // Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #141
It is common to fall in love with an idea of someone rather than the actual person. Too many people make the mistake of only loving a person to an extent, which isn’t the way you should love someone at all. When it comes to love you must choose your person carefully, you must love whole heartedly. You must sacrifice deeply, compromise equally, practice patience, give your all willingly. Do not fall for an idea when you fall in love because in the end someone will get hurt.
—  Tenari Ioapo
I feel at home in the coffee shop across the street from school. I feel at home in the mineshaft up the hill. I feel at home at my friend’s houses. I feel at home in the falling snow. I feel at home in the streets of cities I’ve never been to before. I feel at home in most of the world. So why don’t I feel at home lying in my own bed, with my family asleep upstairs? Why don’t I feel at home when I am home?
—  Journal Entry; 12 Oct 2016