You’ve heard of death of the author and death of the reader. Now get ready for. Death of the book. It’s where I stare at an open Google docs page for five minutes before closing it and playing video games.
fanfic writers in the story: *Breathtakingly intricate prose. Astonishingly imaginative plot. Witty, scintillating dialogue. Clever references to canon woven into a universe spun from elegant language. 110K.*
fanfic writers responding to comments: asksdafiojdaisodas omg???? i don’t know what to say, i’m not good with words lol. thamk
A lot of the writing advice I’ve heard either assumes you will only work on one project at a time or tells you that you should. However, I have never found this very doable. At any given time, I have three or more writing projects going. My brain just doesn’t let me focus on one for an extended period of time.
And you know what? It does take me longer to finish a project, but I prefer that with the chance to write everyday than going spans where I don’t have the motivation to work on one single project.
So, I’d like to give some advice on how to juggle more than one WIP.
If you can, stagger when you start them. Or, if you are starting with outlining one and pantsing the other, that works, too. The goal here is that you’re in different phases for each one. If you’re drafting three or outlining four or editing two at the same time, you might drain your creative well with the monotony. Having one in the editing phases, one in drafting, and one in outlining gives you room to bounce between activities.
Diversify Your Mediums
This might not be everyone’s path, especially if you’re already settled on the mediums of your projects, but I like to mix up exactly how I’m formatting them. Full novels, short stories, scripts, poetry, flash fiction, and everything in between and otherwise can be tossed together like a WIP salad. And again, you may be married to working on three full length novels which is fine. But if not, maybe try to switch it up.
Set Your Genre, Aesthetics, Motive, and Themes
My projects all come from different motives. They all have vastly different genres, themes, and aesthetics. You don’t need to have them ALL be WILDLY separate from each other, but it helps if you set their separate identities. When I find inspiration for sci-fi, I work on my sci-fi project. When I find inspiration for my family, I work on my project focused on family. When I watch a Coen Brothers movie, I work on my script that was motivated by their work. So on and so forth. This way, you can funnel the right inspiration and energy into the proper channels of your work.
Still Allow Yourself to Relax and Take Breaks
More projects doesn’t and shouldn’t mean that you sacrifice free time. Your pace can remain the same as someone working on one project. And it probably should. You don’t want to strain yourself and lose interest in 4 projects all at once. It’s a marathon and you can take time to relax and wander.
And don’t be afraid or feel bad to pause on project for a while or indefinitely. Just like any other process, sometimes you realize a certain project isn’t meant for right now.
Whether you use Docs, paper and pen, or something else or a mix of everything, use your organizational skills! Google Docs, Word, and Pages will all allow you to save your documents to folders specific to a project. Physical folders and files do the same. This way, you can get started quickly and easily without digging through multiple projects-worth of documents or getting distracted by another project.
Have any other tips for managing multiple projects? Drop them below!
I bet sometimes you wonder if you could’ve done something differently. You wonder if it would’ve worked out if you’d been slightly older and had your life together. If you’d been more in control of your emotions or more articulate. You wonder if things had ever ended if you’d known what you really wanted and needed at that time. You blame it on bad timing, or a lack of effort, or on misunderstandings. You blame yourself, because when it was over you realised you could have worked harder for it to last. You think that you would’ve loved them through it all if you’d been given another chance, and that it would’ve been enough to make them stay. Looking back, you know that you should’ve been kinder and a better listener. A better person. Better for them altogether.
What if I told you it wasn’t your fault? What if I told you that maybe the timing was bad and that the stars might not have aligned for you, but that in the end none of these things played into you going your separate ways? That maybe it was never supposed to work out, regardless of the time and the place, your age or some other insignificant detail you want to put the blame on? Not everything in life becomes something long-lasting. Some of the people we meet don’t stay with us as long as we would like them to, but every single one of them teaches us a different lesson. It’s up to us to pay attention. And sometimes the most unusual thing happens: after a couple of years down the road, after you got to know yourself a bit better, you meet them again. And from the very moment your eyes find theirs it is so clear that this was exactly the amount of time apart that you needed. Who knows – maybe it will work even better the second time around. But perhaps it won’t. And if it doesn’t, you’ll know what to do.
“Have you ever felt, have you ever dreamt of falling down a precipice into a pit? That’s just how I’m falling, but not in a dream. And I’m not afraid, and don’t you be afraid. At least, I am afraid, but I enjoy it. It’s not enjoyment though, it’s ecstasy.”
Hi everyone! For those of you who are considering traditional publishing, you will discover that agents and publishers are attracted to character-driven novels rather than plot-driven novels, or vice versa. Therefore, it is important to know the difference as well as which one your novel currently operates as.
These novels deal with inner transformation or relationships between characters, as it focuses on inner conflict more than anything else. The center of this drive revolves around the particular choices your character makes on their own rather than choices that move the plot from point A to point B.
For example, in romance novels, the plot is typically focused on what is going on between two characters rather than what is going on around them.
These novels focus on the choices and the actions of characters in terms of their environment and the events of the novel. Basically, if the characters are replaced, the plot is overall still the same. The center of this drive happens to be plot twists, action, and external conflict. Even though you naturally see the plot unfold through the character’s eyes, they are not truly the center of these novels, as their choices are a result of what is happening around them instead of the plot catering to their choices.
The majority of fantasy novels are plot-driven, as the fictional elements (magic, mythical creatures, epic words, etc.) are typically what’s in control rather than the characters.
Truth be told, some really great books are able to blend these elements together, but it is always important to know what the center of your novel is!
has got to last for years and years.
I like them more than I like me.
Stubborn as hell, they won’t let go.
It’s a kind of marriage.
It’s a kind of war
where I plant bombs inside
Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it’s all a male fantasy: that you’re strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren’t catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you’re unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur.
A rich merchant hires a team of highly skilled assassins to kill another group of highly skilled assasins and vice versa. At the end of the competition, the merchant plans to hire the assassin team that survives for a special mission. However, a few members of both teams seem unkillable, especially as they catch on that they’re both predator and prey, so the merchant decides to integrate the teams.
Working with people who’ve killed your friends and tried to kill you becomes a lot harder when the task at hand is near impossible: assassinate the royal family and their entire court, but the sheer amount of prize money brings them together in a hesitant truce.
i feel like the mark of a good story is when readers are discussing the plot and they bring up that scene. if my readers all know what that scene is when geeking out over a story i’ve written, i’ll know i’ve made it in life.
This one is for the people constantly standing on the sidelines. For the ones who’ve had to put their dreams on hold and those who are too scared to even let themselves remember what dreaming truly feels like. For those who have lost sight of their destination along the way. This is for the ones who have to be strong every day, who feel like they cannot let their guard down even for a heartbeat, for those who wear their smiles like armour and who wield their words like swords. This is for the people who failed to say the words “I miss you”, “don’t go”, and “please stay” at the right time and have never regretted anything more. This is for you, and for me, for the girl who’s been desperate for things to change for a while now, and for the boy who’s been struggling to keep it all together in front of his friends. This is for all of us, because life doesn’t stop, not for anyone. And sometimes we need a reminder that it’s okay to feel lost and to not have everything figured out, whether you’re 15 or 23 or 47. If it’s not right today, maybe it’ll be better tomorrow. This is for the ones who still believe in themselves or in anything at all, even if it seems so small in the great scheme of things. This is for you: I see you. We all see you. And we know what it’s like to feel that way. This is for all of us - we’re not alone in how we feel.
Summary: You’re out of town and Spencer decides to have movie night with your daughter Bella. Unfortunately, they decide to watch Coraline, which leaves the six year old feeling rather unsettled
Extra Info: This movie used to absolutely terrify me when I was little, but is now honestly one of my all time favs. Its literally genius. I’m forever salty they took it off of Netflix earlier this year. Anyway, the song is called “You Know I Love You,” by Sakura Jurai, which is one of the songs of the movie’s soundtrack.
Movie night. The perfect way to bond with your children. All you need is a bowl of popcorn and an old couch and you’re on your way to forming happy memories right from the comfort of your very own living room.
At least, that’s what Spencer thought. It’s not like he was having a lot of them growing up, but with you out of town he figured what better way to wind down with his daughter than spending some time in front of the big screen? So, on a Friday night, Spencer popped some popcorn, but M&M’s in it for extra spice, and started flipping through the kids’ section of Netflix with Bella. They’d seen all the Disney movies already, and if he had to watch Despicable Me one more time he thought he might scream. No, they definitely needed to try something new, and that was when the movie “Coraline” showed up.
“Oooh, let’s watch that one!” His six year old daughter pointed enthusiastically at the screen, immediately drawn in by the characters bright blue hair and devious smile. Spencer shrugged and hit play, not bothering to watch the trailer or read reviews first. After all, it was a kid’s movie, what could go wrong?
By the time Spencer realized that this absolute horror film should definitely not be categorized as a kids movie, it was too late. Between the skin crawling idea of having your eyes ripped out and replaced with buttons, to being chased down a web by some spider mutant, it was clear that Spencer had made a grave error. Bella’s eyes were glued to the screen, to in shock to duck her head under the blanket. Her skin had become the same shade as the ghost kids that the Bedlam had stuffed in the mirror. Spencer promptly turned the movie off, leaving them in complete darkness.
“I didn’t like that movie very much.”
After a few minutes of Spencer sitting in a silent panic, wondering what kind of nightmares his daughter was going to be dealing with for the next few weeks, he finally decided to pick her up and get her ready to sleep. After getting her pajamas on and making sure she brushed her teeth well, Spencer tucked her into bed and placed a kiss on her cheek.
“Goodnight, lovebug.” He was about to leave and go about his night, when Bella said:
“What if she comes and gets me?”
Spencer’s heart sunk at the sound of her soft voice, completely terrified that the animated character was going to hurt her in the middle of the night. He walked back over before sitting down on the edge of the bed and holding his arms open. Bella promptly went and sat on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder with her arms wrapped tightly around his torso.
Spencer was a little lost on how to reason with a six-year-old, because she was the perfect age to firmly believe that there were monsters under her bed no matter what logic Spencer tried in the past. It wasn’t until you told him that six-year old’s require different methods to ease their fears that he was able to make any progress.
“The scary woman died at the end, remember? She got trapped when Coraline slammed the door on her. She can’t hurt you. Besides, I promise we don’t have any secret doors in our house.”
“But what if she comes though my closet?”
The gears in Spencer’s brain began to turn. Trying to put a six-year-old to bed was like trying to solve a case. Both required a lot of brain power trying to understand someone who made absolutely no sense to the rest of the world.
“Well, then your going to have to fight her like Coraline did in the movie.”
Spencer left the room, and ten minutes later returned with a bottle of windex he had pulled out of the recycling. The label had been taken off and replaced with “Monster Repellent” written in Sharpie, and the bottle itself was full of water with a few drops of lavender oil. He handed to his daughter, and lead her around the room telling her to spray anywhere she thought the Bedlam could get in. Under her bed, the closet, the window, according to Bella, the Bedlam could shrink herself down to the size of a mouse and hide in her dresser drawers (which were then sprayed thoroughly). After all the crucial areas had been taken care of, Bella went back to her bed, where Spencer sprayed the lavender mixture on her, making her giggle.
“There, now you’re invincible. No monster will ever step foot in your room, and if they do, they will be met with the fiercest warrior of them all!”
Her laugh echoed in the room as Spencer kissed her one last time and pulled her blankets to her chin.
“I love you, Bella sleep tight.”
“I love you too, Daddy.”
Spencer shut off the light, smiling as he watched his daughter fall asleep.
people totally misinterperted the concept of anarchy. they utilize that as an excuse for their vandalistic actions, while, in fact, it is living your life independently from the government. live in a village, grow your own food, make your own clothes, that’s anarchy. no masters, no slaves. the societal norm today makes us forget how liberating that shit is. robbing, spray painting, protesting, wreaking havoc, all of it is pretty much meaningless. no one hears your cries for change. “be the change you want to see in the world”. that’s pretty much it.
You were looking a little lost that day. I remember it well: you were sitting by the pool, gazing into the water, with the sun setting to your back. Like it could not bear to see you this uncertain, it sank without warning, painting the sky orange. Your eyes were downcast, your lips pulled between your teeth and you were so preoccupied with your churning thoughts that you didn’t hear me approach. And when your eyes met mine, your face fell. Like you’d set out on a quest not really knowing what to expect and life somehow still managed to surprise you, you just couldn’t tell if it was in a good or a bad way. I‘m ashamed to say that I thought it suited you well. That this piece of information about you fit into a box with all the other puzzle pieces I‘d put together so far. It was unfair of me. I never wanted you to be lost or was happy that you were. I just thought that it would’ve been unusual if it had been any other way. That you wouldn’t have been the person I’d grown to like if you’d known where to go next.
I sat down next to you, careful not to let our knees brush, not to let our shoulders touch, and dipped my feet into the cold water. You didn’t look at me. I remember wishing that you had.
“Is it getting worse again?” I asked, watching you swing your legs back and forth, sending the water rippling. You didn’t stop to think, to consider your answer.
“No,” you said, and I knew that you were lying. Like all of us, you had your good days and your bad days, and those in between that no matter how successful they were still felt like loss and failure to you.
“What is it then?”
He sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest. The water was even colder without his legs swinging next to mine.
“It’s just like everyone has their lives figured out. Everyone has some kind of… plan, at least. I don’t know what I’m doing half of the time. I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow, or in a week, or in a month. I don’t know who I’ll be.”
“Not everyone has their shit figured out, you know,” I replied, intently staring at the water. Seeing him like this hurt, but it was difficult to think of something that would make him feel better. “I have this… vague idea where I want to go, but I’m not sure.”
When the silence became painful, a thing that had claws and teeth, I added, “where do you see yourself in five years? Maybe that’s a good start.” I regretted it instantly.
He didn’t say anything for a while and just when I thought he wasn’t going to reply at all, he spoke. I couldn’t tell if he’d turned his answer over too long to be the truth or too long for it to be a lie.
“Somewhere.” Disappointment curled in my chest and settled in the pit of my stomach, cold and heavy. “Anywhere. I don’t know. Just somewhere I’m happy. Somewhere I’m comfortable, you know?” The wind picked up around us and I pulled my shaking legs from the water.
“I guess,” I mumbled, but the words sounded hollow, even to my own ears. I couldn’t believe I had gotten it all wrong. That I’d gotten him so wrong.
There was that tiny part of me that had hoped the answer to my question would be: „With you. No matter where I‘ll be in five years, I see you by my side.“ Because it’s what I would’ve said. But looking back, I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I guess in a sick, twisted way, he was always supposed to be a lost boy and I was not supposed to be the one to find him.
The MC is the bastard child of the queen and doesn’t know who their father is. Hating their constrained life as a royal made even worse by their shameful status as a bastard, hated by the king, they wish for a different life. The opportunity presents itself when an infamous pirate claiming to be their father offers a position aboard his ship if the MC can prove their worth as an outlaw by stealing something precious from the castle.
How Physical, Mental, and Online Environments Can Influence Your Writing
Our online activity can influence our writing just as much as as our physical and mental environments. Young Writers Program participant Adrienne is here today to talk about how writers can use all three types of environments to their benefit:
Every day, we’re influenced by countless things in our environment. Social media posts, our physical environment, and the people around us all impact the way we think and ultimately, the way we write. Today, I’d like to share with you three ways these things can influence your writing process, and how you harness them to become a better writer. Let’s dive in!
Online Writing Environments
The internet can both help and hinder your writing habit, whether you realize not or not. If you’re like me, you love looking around the NaNoWriMo forums for writing advice and general chat. Do you ever look at other writers on the NaNoWriMo forums and think, they’re a way better writer than I am? This negative mindset of comparison takes the joy out of writing because you feel like you can never be as good as they are.
But the truth is, there will always be people around you who are better than you at writing. Instead of just thinking, they’re better at writing than I am, start finding realistic ways to get better. For example, find writing prompts on Pinterest and just start doing it! The more you write, the better you’ll be.
Summary: They were just casually hanging out together but maybe that’s not what their hearts wanted.
Warning: fluff. Maybe a bit sensual.
You were panting and moaning as your world was rocked by a very, very handsome soldier. You claw his back as you both reach the climax together. He falls next to you as you both catch your breaths.
“Feeling good now?” You ask trying not to fall asleep on his bed.
“Much better. I’m pretty sure I can sleep well tonight.” He chuckled and sighed deeply, closing his eyes.
You and Bucky had been going on for about a year and a half now. It all started when his nightmares returned and your habit of midnight snaking. You suggested how sex can help you sleep better and he thought to take up the chance. He offered it was okay and you were fine. You were taught to never get involved with an Avenger since the day you were recruited but not obeying was one of the reasons why you were chosen. Bucky and you agreed never to let your heart cloud with affection and it was going fine. Till now.
You slipped out of his room. Just as you were about to open the door to you room, Natasha walked up to you.
“Your strolls are getting longer.” She said with smirk on her face.
“Yeah. Helps me sleep later.” You answered while getting in your room.
“Sure. After all, they do make you tired. But tell me something. Do the gardens moan loudly?”
You halted and turned to her. She was smirking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t try to hide it. I know what’s going on between you and Bucky.”
“Nothing is going on!”
“Fine. Don’t tell me. But know this. The entire compound knows about your little arrangement. And these arrangements don’t last long without getting your heart in between.”
She walked away shutting the door behind her while you sat down on the bed. She knew that before Nat said it. She knew what was she getting into and yet, somehow, it happened.
You have been avoiding Bucky for a week now. You knew his timing by heart so it was easy for you. You avoided late nights now. Many times, while you were in your room, you saw his shadow lurking outside your door but he never knocked.
Bucky thought he did something wrong. He wasn’t craving something physical but he craved the chats you both had through out the day. He liked you, a lot. But never said anything. Now he regretted not telling you. He would walk to your door and not knock. He knew you were avoiding him and it was liking him. He spent his day in the gym trying to get all the frustration out.
The rest of the team saw this and were feeling sorry for them. Steve tried talking to Bucky and got nothing but angry grunts. Nat and Wanda would try to take you out for the night but you never got out of the room. Finally, Steve decided to talk things out with you.
He knocked at your door. You opened the door and let Steve in.
“What is it Captain? A new assignment?”
“No new assignments for you till you get your head right.” He said irritatingly.
“I’m fine.” You said as you offered your seat to Steve.
“And I am Falcon.”
“I thought we were saying things that aren’t true.” Steve said cocking his eyebrows.
“I am fine Captain.”
“No you’re not. And so is Bucky. What is wrong with both of you. You both can work this out.”
“Talk to Bucky about this and not me.” You said rearranging the stuff that was already arranged.
“He would only talk to you. He’s holed up in the gym all day, doesn’t really eat and whenever I go to talk to him, he punches the bag so hard I think he’s imagining me. He’s my best friend and I can’t see him like this.”
“Neither can I. I can’t face him and not think about our time together. He was the one thing that helped me stay sane and now I can’t go to him without feeling things we agreed not to feel.”
“Y/N, listen. I’ll be completely honest here, he feels the same way as you do and it is extremely new for him. Atleast you know what you feel, he’s confused and it’s getting in his head. I’m afraid he might do some harm to himself. Please talk to him.”
Steve patted on your hand as you cried. He consoled you and then left you to think about things. You had to talk to Bucky. You cared for him more than your feelings.
By the time you got out, it was already 12 am. You went to the kitchen and made cup noodles both of you. The closer you walked to the gym, the louder his grunts got and so did the noise of punches on the bag. You took a deep breath and walked in.
Bucky was busy punching the bag. He pictured the unknown territory of his feelings as the bags and punched the hell out of it. That’s how he was taught to deal with them. Amongst all the noises, he missed your footsteps approaching him.
You put down the noodles away enough to not spill them. You knew you will end up in a combat because you walked in suddenly.
As soon as you touched his shoulder, he whipped around and tossed you on the ground. With a swift move, you get up and groan. It was like fighting with a bull. He ran towards you and threw yourself to the side. He turned to you with red in his eyes. He looked scared, hungry and maybe a little angry.
He ran to you again and this time, you jumped and hopped on his back. Your arms around his neck and your feet dangling above the ground.
You did what you knew would calm him. You placed your lips on his neck. You kept on kissing and sucking it till that throbbing vein calmed down. You slowly got down, your lips not leaving his neck. You might be giving him a hickey at this rate. He grabbed your face and your lips met. Passion, anger, fear, every emotion that was kept under the blanket, jumped right out in that kiss. You did not know when you both were lying on the ground. Soon the kiss slowed down and you both took a breath.
He rested his head on yours, closing his eyes and taking in the moment. You loosened your grip on him and sat down a little away from him. He felt empty without you in his arms.
“Bucky, we need to talk about this.”
“Bucky, you cannot keep doing this to yourself. You don’t eat, you don’t drink, you worry your friends-”
“Did I worry you?” He said calmly.
“Did I worry you?” His voice raised a little.
“Yes or no Y/N! Did I worry you or not?” He yelled.
“Yes you worried. Hell! I died seeing you like this. You don’t take care of yourself and you expect me to not worry! What is wrong with you! Deal with what is going on in your head. Why can’t you!” You shouted angrily.
“How can I deal with things when the person you used to help wouldn’t be with me?” He said calmly. His statement stunned you.
“What do you mean?”
“You stopped talking to me. It’s been over a month. I was facing uncharted feelings and you weren’t there. To whom am I supposed to talk now, huh?”
You both had tears in your eyes. You waddle your way to him and hug him.
“You’re all gross and sweaty by the way.” You say as you let go off him.
He chuckled and sat you down on his lap. You grab the cup noodles from near you and give one to him.
“Eat up. You look weak.” You said as you shove one fork full of noodles in his mouth.
“Oh please. I’m a super soldier.”
You snort in laughter as you exchange your light hearted jokes.
Steve let you both off the hook for a week to rest up. You were, right now, all snuggled up in the blanket with your laptop, while Bucky was laying next to you. His metal arm was around you.
“We never really talked about this.” Bucky said as he opened his eyes.
“Talk about what?” You said shutting your laptop.
“About this new arrangement. I, uh, need, um, specification on this.”
You caress his face and give him a peck on the lips. “You’re my boyfriend if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“So you’re my girlfriend?” He asked sitting up straight.
Summary: You come home from work and walk in on Spencer and your daugher (Bella) renacting Shakespeare's “Much Ado About Nothing” in your living room
Extra Info: Shoutout to the English test I had today on this play for inspiring this fic. The song doesn’t have to do with the fic other than I just really like it and the title fits well, but it’s “Hey, Ma” by Bon Iver
After a long day at work, you wanted nothing more than to come home to a quiet household.
Unfortunately, you married Dr. Reid.
From first glance, you would think that he would be a mature, responsible man. His many doctorates and the fact that he wears a bow tie to Red Robin led you to such conclusions, but it didn’t take long for you too see who he really was. He was the kind of friend that held passionate arguments about whether Die Hard counted as a Christmas movie (he won, it does). He was the kind of husband who told you to close your eyes because he had a “sexy surprise” for you, only to greet you wearing a Winnie the Pooh onesie that was definitely not sexy. And the kind of father who puts on a princess crown and has tea with his daughter every Saturday morning. The shenanigans he pulled were endless, especially when you left him and Bella alone, and tonight was no exception.
You walked into your house and were immediately hit with the smell of chocolate chip pancakes. A peculiar dinner choice, but definitely not the strangest you’d ever walked in on them eating. The time Spencer went out and bought food dye just so he could make green eggs and ham would have to be the strangest thing that has been made in you kitchen. But what was more peculiar than the smell of breakfast at almost ten o’ clock at night, was what you heard. Very strong, very obnoxious, British accents coming from your living room.
“I wonder that you still be talking Benedict, nobody marks you!” your daughter said loudly, in a very sassy voice she could have only learned from her father.
And yet an even louder, sassier voice replied:
“What, My dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?”
What was your living room this morning, had now been turned into a stage. The sofa was lined with Bella’s stuffed animals, and Spencer had turned off all the lights in the house except two lamps, which he had pointed on himself and his daughter so that they were the only thing that stood out against the shadows.
You watched them silently from the darkness. They were so wrapped up in their performance, they hadn’t even heard you open the door. You held back a laugh as Bella so wonderfully delivered the iconic, “I would rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me,” line. The exhaustion that filled your every bone minutes before was completely gone. Looking back on it, it was probably a mistake to tell Spencer that Bella needed to do a certain amount of reading per night, because you guess this is where his mind went to. It wasn’t until the end of the act that he finally looked up and saw you. “Bella, look who it is!”
“Momma!” Small arms wrapped around your waist as she crashed into you with so much force you had to take a step back to keep your balance.
“Hey cupcake!” No matter how hard your day was, a hug from her was always the cure. Of course, a little attention from Spencer defiantly didn’t hurt, which you were remined of as you felt a soft kiss on your cheek. Bella was more than excited to tell you all about what her and Spencer had done tonight. After picking her up from school, they went to the park and played soccer (she won), and then they came home, they made pancakes together, before Spencer decided that a school night was the perfect time to reenact one of theatre’s best comedies. After the initial excitement, you and Spencer simultaneously realized that it was an hour and a half past Bella’s bedtime, to which she was promptly sent upstairs to begin getting ready; only after Spencer promised to tuck her in.
Now that you were alone, you had a couple questions.
“Shakespeare? Spence she’s six.” You began helping him collect all the animals as you raised your eyebrows at him. “You know most dads reenact something like Goldilocks or Beauty and the Beast, right?”
“Well clearly I’m not most dads,” he said, gesturing to his kimono and mismatched fuzzy socks.
You had to crack a smile at that one. “Does she even understand what’s going on?”
“She’s my daughter of course she understands what’s going on,” he joked.
“Oh, don’t tell me she’s gonna turn out like you.”
“Y/N I will do absolutely everything in my power to assure that is exactly what happens.”
“Spence don’t you dare!” You laughed, launching a stuffed animal at him and hitting him square in the face.
“I will make it my personal mission to make sure she memorizes the periodic table and can tell you the stages of photosynthesis before she reaches the second grade!” He threw the stuffed animal back at you, his entire face glowing with happiness.
“At this rate, she’ll probably right her crush a sonnet for Valentine’s day!”
“After all the Shakespeare we’ve been doing together I should hope so!” The stuffed animal dodge ball continued for another ten minutes until you heard a shout. “Daddy! I’m ready!”
“Your princess is calling, Signor.” Spencer gave one final throw, nailing you in the stomach before heading upstairs with smile.
In my limited experience as a writer, I have read a lot of writing tips. Some of them have worked for me, and some of them haven’t - but one that really hasn’t worked for me is ‘force yourself to keep writing your novel’. Because when I force myself to write, my writing is trash.
Sometimes sitting down at my keyboard and hammering out 500 words a day helps me to get back into the habit of writing, and can be useful. But most of the time, it’s not, simply because when I don’t enjoy what I’m writing, it doesn’t turn out well.
Let’s say you’re stuck on this one scene of your wip and you technically know what happens next but don’t know how to write it. Don’t write it. Move onto the scene after it and try that.
Maybe you’re halfway through chapter four but you just got a really good idea for a dialogue that could go in a scene in chapter seven but you feel like you should write in chronological order but also chapter seven is now playing out in your head because that dialogue is just so good and works so well with the story. Don’t. Go and write chapter seven.
Or you haven’t touched your novel in weeks and opening it again and re-reading the same scene you read 12000 times while trying to write what happens next makes you feel hopeless and sad and you don’t want to write what happens next. Don’t. Work on a side wip or expand your character profiles or skip ahead a few scenes or write fanfiction about your own characters where for once your job isn’t to make their lives miserable, but to do quite the opposite.
You don’t have to write everything in chronological order, and don’t try and write something that you can’t figure out. Because chances are, at 3 a.m. on a random night, you will solve the problem you’ve been stuck on for weeks. Or while you’re daydreaming in math class, you’ll find the one word you’ve been looking for or find the answer to that plot hole that has been bugging you for weeks. And eventually everything will fall into place.
But if you try to force yourself to write something that you really don’t feel like writing? You’re only going to make yourself hate the process and hate what you’ve written and not enjoy writing anymore. And that’s possibly the worst thing that can happen to any writer.
When you write what you enjoy, it shows through your writing. And then the reader will enjoy reading your work so much more too.
Tl;dr write stuff that makes you happy because that’s going to turn out so much better than the trash you feel compelled to write.
✨ IDK WHAT TO MAKE will be a free pdf zine, and i am looking for submissions! ✨
i am imagining this zine as a survival guide for anyone who wants to make something but can’t figure out what. it will be divided into sections and i would love to fill it with as much inspiration as possible!
some examples of what i’m looking for:
craft walkthroughs and ideas
art and writing prompts
artwork and writing on dealing with blocks
anything else you think will fit into this zine!
submissions should be A4 size, or easily scalable by me. feel free to submit a few pages if you need to. if you have any specific questions or need help formatting your piece please let me know, i’m happy to help! 🖤
please send submissions to firstname.lastname@example.org with the subject “IDK ZINE SUBMISSION” by june 30th. be sure to include how you want to be credited!
reblog to spread the word! thanks so much, happy creating! 🖤