gg-writes

[gg-writes]

Hey, Writeblr! Been a long while!

I don't know how much I'm going to be updating for the time being, but I did want to stop by and reveal that

gasp

I've actually been writing!

Currently I'm on the second draft of a story I don't want to say too much about because it's going good. Super good. I don't want to jinx it!

Instead, I'll leave you with a drawing I did of the (sort of) antagonist, Isen.

Stay tuned and keep on writing, guys, gals and pals!

oh yeah I'm getting ever so slightly better at the drawing thing too

#writer #writing #writeblr #cant wait to actually have something to show for my work

[gg-writes]

I want my writing to be smart.

Here’s what I mean: I want to write something you can understand on the first go, no problem. But then, the more you think about it, the more little things you realize. Are those little things essential to grasping the plot? No, but they enhance it. Most importantly, you feel smart for pointing them out, and I feel smart for writing them.

[gg-writes]

The most surprising part of my research into the four branches of the Mabinogi by far has been the video game

Like here I was genuinely worried about being disrespectful of the myth

And there's really an MMO out there so loosely based that it seems like somebody threw the all the names and locations in a hat, drew twenty of them, combined them with each other, and then told them to eight five-year-olds through thirty rounds of telephone

#writeblr #writing #writer #i mean on one hand yay i can change as much as i want #on the other hand i want the myths to be recognizable #four branches of the Mabinogi

[gg-writes]

This is some of the best advice for writing blocks when you have a reactive protagonist. Especially if you have it plotted out already.

Have your protagonist just ruin the heck out of your plans.

All of them. Have them make the biggest mistake of their life right in the middle of your perfectly crafted story.

Now, how does your story react?

Writerly Reminder: Reactive protagonists do not gain agency just because they’re in suspenseful and/or painful situations.

No matter how much cool action and how many plot twists you have going on, if your protagonist isn’t actively affecting the plot (either for better or worse— failure can be active as long as it’s caused by the protag’s actions as they work to change their environment) then the story is going to be more stiff and boring than it should.

Not only should the stakes change through every scene, chapter, and arc, but the protagonist must be one of the major pivots changing those stakes!

#writeblr #writing #advice

[gg-writes]

"I'm not all heartache and teardrops, you know." She rubbed her eyes too hard, trying to make her words a bit more true. "I laugh. Sometimes I yell."

"I know, love," she replied with a soft hand on her companion's red cheek. "And you don't have to keep any of it from me."

"I do, though." She leaned away from the caress. Her breath quickened, the sting of tears welling up in her just-dried eyes. "See, everyone says they're okay with it, and that I'm allowed to feel, but nobody really wants to deal with it. Nobody wants to see it."

"Why not?"

The offence dripping from her love's voice took her by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I asked," she said, holding out her hand. "Why wouldn't they want to see the human side of a goddess?"

#writeblr #writing #writer #prompt #man i wish #if only my life romance was as sweet as my mental romance

[gg-writes]

"I wish you could have seen it when the good Lord spun me 'round. Should have known better than to think you can keep a good man down."

"15 Years" - Houndmouth

#lyrics #inspiration #I'm up way too early

[gg-writes]

Person: *writes genre fiction*

Jerks: Wow, unoriginal much?

Person: *writes literary fiction*

Jerks: Okay you're like super pretentious

Person: *writes characters based on some aspects of themself*

Jerks: ugh self insert

Person: *writes characters from all walks of life, even walks they haven't experienced*

Jerks: um why is this forced diversity here

Person: *writes something for fun*

Jerks: shallow

Person: *writes something with a deep theme*

Jerks: snobby

Person: WHAT IS IT THAT YOU WANT FROM ME?!?!?!

Jerks: geez calm down, nothing, just write what you want. Man you're high strung

Person: *writes what they want*

Jerks: no, not like that

#writeblr #writer #writing #bottom line someone is always going to hate what you say #so find someone you enjoy seeing pissed off and write what they don't like #or write what you do like #i guess that's the mature way to handle the situation

[gg-writes]

ALL WRITBLRS

I really want to have mutuals on here, make friends and all, so please reply or reblog or w/e so I could see you.. here’s a little about me to help u decide if u want me as a friend or not lol

I write fantasy, and murder. [Separately]

my name is Nourhane,(she/her) 19. bi.

North African

I complain a LOT about how much I hate writing my current WIP but wouldn’t give it up for the world.

I’m on Twitter if you’re on there too.

Have a great day!!

[gg-writes]

So far my strategy has been to write, tag, and self reblog every month or so.

It's not exactly the most successful strategy, but it IS a strategy.

But in all seriousness, I've found that it's usually a matter of length. The "keep reading" link is your friend! People love moodboards because they're short and pretty. Find a Writeblr buddy and reblog their posts about their work! Some of the coolest people I've seen in this community are simply groups of 3-4 people that reblog each other's content with questions and compliments.

And also, of course, never stop writing!

Writeblr: Why isn’t there more original content here??

Anyone: *gets excited about their writing and gushes about it at length, posting tons of original content in the process*

Writeblr:

Anyone: *makes a humorous post about being frustrated with writing*

Writeblr:

[gg-writes]

Writeblr: Why isn't there more original content here??

Anyone: *gets excited about their writing and gushes about it at length, posting tons of original content in the process*

Writeblr:

Anyone: *makes a humorous post about being frustrated with writing*

Writeblr:

#writeblr #not writing #because why bother sometimes lol

[gg-writes]

Different Stories Resonate with Different People

[gg-writes]

Okay so I was reading about octopi yesterday, and how they’re super intelligent (like scary intelligent), build fences and even little shelters for themselves, and have discovered that it’s easier to jump onto fishing vessels to steal from the catch buckets than to actually catch fish themselves.

I read all this and what pops into my mind?

A little old lady on a beach house waiting for her sailor husband to come home.

She fishes on the beach at night, but she’s not really fishing. She’s looking over the water and waiting, hoping, wishing to see his little rowboat. The one or two fish she may catch get tossed in a bucket, but she still stares at the water.

She doesn’t notice the octopus sneak from the shoreline and wrap his tentacles around one of her catches. He eyes her suspiciously, ready for her to defend her prey like any good predator, but the woman doesn’t notice.

Nor does she notice the second night.

But on the third night, after catching a rather small fish, she tosses it in the bucket, sticks the rod in the sand, and just sits.

The octopus slinks from the water at the usual time, when she would have already caught a snack or two, and their eyes finally meet.

“So you’re the extra hand in my cookie jar,” the woman chuckles in a sad voice. “Come on over then, get your dinner.”

He is wary, but she doesn’t seem prone to quick movements. She always seems to move rather slow. He weaves his way across the shore, cautiously reaches a tentacle into the bucket, and bounds back for the water, his eyes on her the whole time.

She simply smiles.

Many nights go by like this, and the octopus always knows when to expect her. Every night, he sits ever just closer to her as she pushes the bucket of her meager catch his way, and talks. He doesn’t understand the words but he knows that whatever a husband is, she wants him back, and whatever kids are, she wanted those, too. It didn’t seem like a lot to want to him.

If he could have, he would have easily traded her those things for the fish she gives him each night.

But one night, as the moon reflects on the waters of the sea and the octopus stretches his tentacles to meet his friend…

She isn’t there.

He paces the beach for a time. No bucket. No rod. No recent footsteps. He looks warily to the weirdly lit wooden cave she returns to after their visits. It is far from the water, but perhaps not too far.

Perhaps she simply forgot what time it is.

As he reaches the wooden enclosure, he finds an entrance only partly barred and squeezes through its opening. Inside, there are shells, and there are images of his friend, and what he assumes are friends of hers, maybe even the husband she wanted back so badly.

As he ventures further, he finds his friend.

Only, she is not there anymore.

He brings a tentacle to her face, but she doesn’t respond. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t smile.

The octopus leaves, sad and confused. She was a kind hearted hunter who never balked at sharing a meal. She deserved whatever that husband was, and whatever kids were, but he knows he can’t do any of that now, even if he could before.

He can do but one thing.

Every night, when they would have met on the beach and watched the water, he crawls from the shoreline with a shell in his tentacle, a shell like the ones she liked so much in her wooden cave.

And he places it around her resting place.

When her wooden cave is completely surrounded by the shell fence, he knows she’ll rest peacefully, her body protected from any scavengers who might happen by.

It was all he could do, but he wished he could have done so much more.

#self reblog #not a great mood today #so I'm taking a break from new stuff

[gg-writes]

As I closed my eyes and listened, each passing car reminded me of the people I'd known who had come and gone. You could hear the cars coming, and for a moment they're all you can hear, until the sound is nothing but a memory drifting down the road. With each car that passed, I realized more and more that they were not like me, blaring into existence and zooming by just as fast.

What was I?

Was I the plane overhead? No, but it was an all too familiar sound. Even with the coming and going of the cars, it remained a constant, and for a time I feel it will be there forever. Until it's not. Just as the cars did, but slower and with more to miss, the sound of the plane fades into the night to grace the ears of another.

But what was I?

More constant than the cars and the plane was the wind, but I knew in an instant that the wind wasn't me. The wind was too powerful to be a single person, moving even when all seems still.

Perhaps I was the rustling of the leaves, but they seemed too natural, too plentiful, too much like they belonged.

And then I heard it.

The artificial but all the same enchanting song of a wind chime.

The more I listened, the more constant the sound became. The silence wasn't an end to the melody. It was merely a pause between tones.

And when the wind raged...

I would sing with all my notes.

#writeblr #writing #writer #prose #thoughts from last night

[gg-writes]

I carried my notebook with me all day yesterday out of spite for my ruined morning.

And guess what?

I got a unique story idea down. The skeleton of it, anyway.

I've been tearing through certain TV shows, partly because I'm considering screenwriting, and partly just for general inspiration. One TV show (The OA, all I can say is it's weird and emotional and dripping with symbolism, please watch it so they finish the series) reiterated something I had realized a couple weeks ago.

I want to write a riddle.

But I had no way to go about it.

Yesterday, I decided that having no way to go about it didn't matter.

It didn't matter how weird it might seem to someone else or how little sense it might make to an outside eye. My puzzle, my riddle is for me, and the hope that others enjoy it is secondary at best.

Yesterday was a day of outlines and ideas and research. And though some points might change, I actually know the overlaying structure. I know the riddle and the answer, I just haven't written the clues yet. (Well, I have ideas, they just aren't... synergistic yet.)

The riddle, the skeleton of my thoughts, the echoing structure:

I am two sets of four born of four sets of three.

The next part is a continued hint, though stripped of direct clues:

Overlapping trichotomies, renamed and renumbered, bestow within me finite darkness and define a limitless expanse.

The only additional hint I will give in the story is that the answer is not a number.

The "sets" are going to be very specific and symbolic themselves.

This is gonna be one weird ass story.

#writeblr #writing #writer #new story #riddle #messing with new narratives #like a mystery but less grounded in reality

[gg-writes]

Me: *feels creative in the early morning*

Me: *wakes up before responsibilities need attending to take advantage of aforementioned creativity without distraction*

Responsibilities: YOU WANT US TO WAKE UP TOO

Me: ssh no, it's okay, I'm just going to use my brainpower for myself, just for like an hour or so and then it's all yours

Responsibilities: LOL OKAY WE'RE UP TOO

Responsibilities: GOOD THING YOU'RE NOT TRYING TO USE THIS TIME TO BE CREATIVE HUH

Me, slouched in utter defeat while putting away my notebook and pencils: yeah... *sniffs* good thing

#writeblr #not writing #I'd really fucking like to be though #my brain doesn't work the same late in the day #just wanna cry

[gg-writes]

no but really, like 

i know that some folks love telling creative people that “you should be doing it for fun because you love it not for the compliments” but creative people thrive on feedback whether it’s critical or just complimentary

so when i write fanfiction and don’t get any actual feedback i feel like i spent all that time and energy doing it for nothing because i’m not getting feedback from the people i wrote it for 

doing something you’re proud of and then presenting it to the sound of utter silence is like the worst feeling on earth 

[gg-writes]

yknow theres a lot of pressure to be successful, particularly on artsy kids whose professions are seen as useless unless theyre famous, but life is fucking hard and sometimes things dont turn out

but i think thats not bad. my dad has wanted to be a musician forever, and hes rly pretty good. but then he joined the military to get away from an abusive family, and then he got married, and then he got divorced, and a lot of horrible shit HAPPENED. he has ptsd and severe anxiety and he could never really get back on the horse. and he never made it as a musician, and now hes 53

but i grew up in a house full of instruments, and he can play all of them, and some of my earliest memories are of him playing guitar on the front porch and me thinking there wasnt a better musician in the world. so. even if you dont get to the stars, exactly, what you do isnt worthless. its not a waste of time if life is difficult and you cant make it, or if you arent famous, or if your work doesn’t influence thousands of people. it will influence someone

there are a million ways to be happy and a million ways to be a successful artist. we create what we do to enhance the human experience and relate to each other and improve ourselves. theres something to be said for just doing that,,,for the sake of doing it, yknow