#just write

[novlr]

Write the story you want to write

It's ok if your story is predictable. Not every work of fiction needs to reinvent the wheel.

There's a reason that tropes exist, and it's because readers enjoy them and they make compelling stories. As long as the journey is fun, readers will come along for the ride.

#writers #creative writing #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writing inspiration #writeblr #writerblr #writing tips #writblr #quick writing tips #tropes #writing things #writer things #just write #writing inspo #creative inspiration #pep talk

[crazycatsiren]

It's 2024 and I'm giving journaling a try again. This time, lots of colors and stickers will be involved. ✍️🏼

#writeblr #diary #writing #journaling #writer #daily journal #just write

[bean-writes]

NaNoWriMo, LET'S GO!!!

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo 2023 #national novel writing month #writer memes #writing memes #funny writer memes #writer #write #just write #it's like dory says #just keep writing #nanowrimo memes #patreon writer

[lavellyne]

recently what's been helping me get over my perfectionism within my writing & worldbuilding is reminding myself how all ideas seem simple at their core.

that when i look at any piece of media i'm truly fascinated by and decide to fragmentise it and put it in a few words it will always feel small. that doesn't, however, mean that it's actually small on the surface level. it doesn't mirror the actual importance & size of your ideas.

you hear it from someone who just 2 years ago would actively throw all my ideas into the trash because they "didn't seem serious enough" or didn't "feel badass" enough to me. back then i had basically nothing (compared to today) lore-wise because everything would end up discarded.

#lave talks #writing #writing motivation #just write #just writer things #just write it #just writer stuff #writing help #on writing #writeblr #creative writing #writer #writer stuff #writing tips

[insomnia-poet]

Night Light

You are moonlight.

A reflection revealing

Mountains in shadows.

You are guidance in flight,

A hug after a fight, a radiance

admired by owls and tired eyes,

And a vibrant painting in cold skies

Whose brush strokes in the night

Are a warm and welcome sight.

#poetryportal #writerscreed #poem #poetry #writers of tumblr #thoughts #writer #insominia #spilled ink #insomnia poetry #moonlight #lights #moon #friends #owls #insomniapoet #insomia #boundless #cosmic #just write #late night poems #late night poetry #poet #sky

[amusesmuse]

If you give a girl a set photo, she's going to want a fanfic to go with it.

#good omens #gos2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #Why did no one tell me writing fanfiction was so addicting #I don't sleep or eat anymore #just write

[moonspirit]

I think as fanfic writers we're all terribly self conscious and extremely harsh in judging our own writing. Just today I was reading a very popular thriller/crime novel that's been raved about a fair bit since it was published, and the main character's name is mentioned around 25 times in the first two pages alone... And here I am beating myself up over writing my main character's name like 3 times in a 150 word paragraph.

It's fine. Your writing is better than you think.

#setting standards for yourself is good #helps you improve #but sometimes those standards cause us to berate ourselves #and thats when we become scared of writing #just write #its fine #writing #fanfic #featured

[jojotier]

the station looks like a tin can the more you drift; each blinking porthole window decorating the label as the space between you and the SS Atlantic turns the only home you have left into just another star in the sky.

the snap of the tether breaking in half is still the only thing you can hear.

you had your moment of panic, though. you clawed and struggled and tried to orient yourself in the vast emptiness of space and turned up nothing. there's still static somewhere in the back of your head and helmet as someone- shit, has to be Macy, there's no one else on board who shares your accent, your food, your history- frantically calls. you can't make out a single word.

you wish you could make a joke, here. put the poor girl at ease. she's young; still doesn't believe you when you say the old Terran dustball used to hold oceans of bioluminescent water and sugarcane fields far as the eye could see. you've been alive long enough to learn that being an astronaut and being a sailor aren't too terribly different, when it comes down to it. different equipment, yes; different tide, different gravity. same work songs. same dangers. same prayers.

you know prayers don't get answered out here in the black. the sea almost ate you whole when you were a child and now the void will finish the job.

they're probably mounting a rescue now. this is the first time someone unmoored has gotten so far, and the ship is full of young people and bravado. you wonder how the fresh-faced lieutenant's doing- never caught their name, but they have a kinda swagger to them under the color-changing twists and a voice to beat out the last chanteyman who led the songs. capable, sure. well-read, sure- but twenty-five is practically still a child's age, on your new home where nothing ever changes but the artificial seasons.

now, here's something new. it's a new problem. and truth be told, you don't got much oxygen left.

you've been out here for a long while. so you can't offer a joke or a condolence, or even an apology, as a girl's cries start making the static over the radio peak. if you could, though, what could you say? you lived longer than you thought you ever would. the dimming at the corners of your eyes and the itch in your throat remind you that you know what it's like to drown. you were always bound to die.

that doesn't stop the tightness in your chest as your shallow breaths, your sips of air, feel heavy on your tongue. your lungs are starting to notice what you've been putting to the back of your mind. coming to terms with your death isn't the same thing as accepting it. not really.

you don't move, even though conservation of energy doesn't make a difference. there's nothing around you but void and the fractionation of stars reflected off your helmet's glass. and the further you drift, the more they seem to wink out, one by one, as the distant station begins to disappear into the stasis of the cosmos.

over the comms you think you hear the lieutenant, maybe. it's hard to catch the actual pitch of the voice. just stops and starts, saying "come- we- are incom- stay tight-!"

it almost makes hope well up. you crush it the same way you did when you dreamed granddaddy being knocked off the mast and into the storm, the night before he went overboard just the same way. if you don't heed omens then you can't feel grief before it's due. if you don't hope then it means you can focus on passing on.

but it means you have to think. you have to think and hold still and ignore the way your skin itches under your gloves- ignore the static buzzing against your eardrums- ignore the

maybe you should give the last of your belongings? you don't even know where to start. give Macy the cowrie shells, because your grandma told you beading them in your rows would protect you and your granddaddy said they could tell the future. give the lieutenant your locket? it'd go good with their uniform, same as it did with yours, when captains cared for that sort of thing, back in the Atlantic seas your mother and your mother's mother and your grandmother's family had sailed.

you wanted to tell those stories. your granddaddy told you his daddy was a baker with one hand and made you memorize your great-granddaddy's name, so you wouldn't forget. you want to tell someone that name. you wanted to bring the memories of Earth with you.

so maybe those are your final words. maybe not.

you feel your heart trembling at a different rate than your ribs; your meat trying to squirm away from the bones keeping you hostage in this deep-space suit, waiting for the little gauge at the corner of your vision to hit zero. your lips open and they're cracking, splitting along the seams, and you say- what in the hell...

"---?" the static buzzes, "who-" but you're not listening, and the oxygen deprivation must be getting to you, because there's a dog floating in front of you.

you're in the deepest reaches of the ether. you can barely even see the light in front of you, because the stars are so much farther apart than you would ever think, and the earth you knew is currently being swallowed up by the sun so many billions of lightyears away, and there is a dog floating in front of you. and not just any dog, but Laika- and you know it's Laika, because your childhood dog looked just like her.

you remember because when you were seven you were crowded around the sole tv with five of your cousins and grandma darting, ducking in and out of the kitchen- offering guayaba here, tembleque there, eat a sandwich, have a coffee- and everyone was talking over each other because yelling is a love language when thirty close family members do it at once while trying to speak over the squawk of all the birds in their cages and the ticking knickknacks on the shelves on the yellow-painted walls- and because the tv was saying that the Russians killed a dog, the same Red-Scare tactic shit you didn't know you'd see a million more times, you were hugging Nena so tight that she was whining to be let go of. and you remember just holding on tighter because Nena was your personal Laika- looked just the same- and you could never imagine letting her go.

as you grew, you began to understand why humans forced the old girl to make the sacrifice. progress can only be done in increments. space, sea, frontier- all are unforgiving and yet so beautiful that humans can't help but reach. so you mourned her, as did the rest of humanity.

she floats in front of you now, her fur alight with stardust, bright eyes wide and locked on the lights reflected off your helmet's glass. the static burns brighter in your brain and her head cocks to the side, one ear perking up. you can't move more than the heaving of your chest as you've shifted to panting to try and gather back the oxygen you wasted by continuing to live even still.

you always wondered what the old girl thought, being left out here in the nothing. whether she was sad to see the world change so much without her being able to chase a single other squirrel. whether she missed getting her belly rubbed and treats and sleeping in the sunshine. whether she waited.

and maybe you're right about the last thing, because Laika's tail is wagging, and she pushes her head into one of your frozen, outstretched hands. even through the thick fabric you feel the softness of her halo-sewn fur, and it feels so much like your Nena that through the tears in your eyes you half expect to see your grandma walking into the room to tell everyone that dinner's ready.

and Laika yaps, bumping her silver-shining head against your palm and closing her eyes in delight, and you wish you could move. you wish the ice wasn't already settling in your joints. you want to pet her as much as she wants to be pet.

it's almost enough to make you forget this is an illusion for a dead man.

when Laika drifts slowly back you try to open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. it's no use speaking. you know this. you are drifting farther than the radars can reach and even when they do reach you, it will have been too late. more than that, what right do you, another creature lost to the void, have to ask her to remain longer in this frozen abyss?

your eyes start to drift closed.

you may have come to terms with your death, and you may just be coming around to accepting it. maybe now you are discovering that they really are the same thing.

there will be no more stories. there will be no more memories. there will only be you, at eternal rest, until the universe finally rips under its own weight.

there isn't anything more for you to do than wait for the end.

until you feel a tug.

eyelids unstick painfully as you stare ahead into the dark, and Laika is still there. you blink heavily, but each time your eyes open again, she remains floating outside. the mirage doesn't go away.

as you finally realize it, you notice the snapped tether she holds within her jaws. she tugs. in the vast range of the ether, you move a minuscule nanometer, and there's ice clinging to your bottom lashes as you try to tell her, that's enough now.

she tugs again. you move, but the distance is still too little. it's okay, you try to tell her, but she doesn't seem to hear.

she pulls and pulls with all her spectral might and you try to tell her you're so good- you're such a good girl- but please stop because it's not doing anything, really. you're still running low on air. you've already accepted your death, and now there's a pesky ember of hope burning at the bottom of your stomach.

humans have already done so much to her. you've already done so much to her, in an abstract way. you don't want to make a spirit cart around your damned corpse into eternity. but she still continues to pull.

the voices over the static are still shouting coordinates and asking questions, but you're distracted by the impossible creature trying to pull you back and the way the ice seems to retreat from your veins and the way, miraculously, the meter showing your oxygen levels begins to rise.

there's a sparking at Laika's heels like metal on the grindstone. she growls her frustration through teeth of platinum and her ears cock back as her muscles strain. and then, she runs.

the distance between stars suddenly shrinks into the size of a pin's head. you see constellations you haven't seen in years- Orion's belt, the Big Dipper, the Eagle. The stars fly by in a flash and yet you can chart the exact course as Laika's tail, more comet than dog, blazes through the night.

you remember now, why the jump from sailing to aerospace was so intuitive. navigating by the stars is in your blood.

and you can't help it. you laugh. because what else is there to do when relief balloons your chest out and makes your numb fingertips light? what do you do when you finally realize you're not going to die after all?

what do you do when you hear the young Lieutenant over the comms, comforting Macy, telling her you'll be found soon? when Macy says "Bayo, please-" and you realize you knew the kid's name after all?

what do you do when Bayo goes silent for a moment. when they finally ask, "is that- is that a dog...?"

what do you do when you're being saved by a ghost dog?

it's so beautiful, so ludicrously brilliant, that you can't help but laugh through the tears running hot on your cheeks.

and the way back isn't as long as you thought, but you sing regardless, and Laika's singing along with you, howling through the rope in her mouth with yips and starts as she runs you home.

#my writing #laika the space dog #laika #original fiction #science fiction #near death experience #happy ending #though so dw lol #god it's been a bit since i had the energy to sit down and Do This yknow #just write #that felt really good ngl

[lovesbiggerthanpride]

As his lips press against yours, drawing you close with kisses, his hands cradle your face in the most tender way.

This is what you desire. Feeling safe. Feeling loved.

#Mel writes #love #feeling safe #feeling loved #I had someone in mind but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #just write #this week’s challenge

[novlr]

How to write the passage of time

Time is a crucial element in writing that shapes the narrative. From linear progression, to flashbacks and foreshadowing, it gives you complete control of how your story unfolds.

Here are some tips to describe the passage of time to make your narratives more compelling.

Use the natural world

Describe the changing seasons

Show plant growth and death

Visualise the ebb and flow of tides

Describe the decomposition of flora and fauna

Describe the ways that landscapes change on long journeys

Use the weather to illustrate time jumps

Illustrate the affect that shifting shadows have on a location

Use heavenly bodies like stars, the rise and set of the sun, and phases of the moon

Describe physical activities

Show family gatherings and how they change over the years

Describe the process of finishing a creative pursuit

Create repetitive activities and routines

Have a character engage in an activity, like gardening, that visually changes

Have your characters learn a new skill

Write a change in location that requires a journey to get from point A to point B

Use your setting's seasonal celebrations to illustrate a time shift for individual characters and their world

Use sound

Describe the ticking of clocks

Have your characters' voice change with their age

Illustrate changing musical styles

Have your characters improve an audible skill like singing, swordplay, or learning a musical instrument

Show a character's conversational style changing as they grow

Use the sounds of nature, like leaves becoming brittle as they crunch underfoot, or rain turning into storms

Use silence to illustrate it getting late

Describe objects

Have food left out go mouldy

Illustrate buildings and settings being overtaken by nature

Show the lifecycle of a family heirloom

Describe textiles fading and degrading over time

Describe the freshness of paint; is it wet and glistening, or cracked and dry?

Illustrate technological change and advancement

Describe the repairs in a beloved object

Show a common object like a pencil to describe how it changes with use

#writing tips #writing resources #how to write #writing reference #novlr #writerblr #writing #writers #creative writing #creative writers #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing advice #writing inspiration #writers life #writers things #writers block #writer things #just write #just write it #novel writing #creative inspiration #novelist #author #authors #aspiring author #aspiring writer #writing community

[ihaveahyperfixationdad]

I would like to remind everyone, as my coochie is doing right now, that I am a woman.

A simple woman with simple needs.

Someone pls write a Pete x Reader period comfort fic I am begging you

#please i just need it #don't ask questions #just write #then tag me in it when ur done #please please please #starkid #team starkid #starkid npmd #npmd #hatchetfield #nerdy prudes must die #starkid productions #abstinence camp #peter spankoffski #pete spankoffski #hot chocolate boy

[wiltedrosewritings]

Reminder

There will never be a perfect time to write.

Never a perfect opportunity.

Never a perfect setting or ambience.

Never a perfect sentiment or mood.

You could wait, hopeful, for perfection to arrive and bless you, but you could be waiting your entire life. Think of all the half-written stories, half-developed characters that will be buried in your grave alongside you, just because you chose not to make the best of an imperfect circumstance.

Stop waiting.

Start. Now. Just write. Horribly, sloppily, tangentially.

Write for yourself. Write for someone in particular. Write for an imaginary, idealized audience. Write to commemorate a phase of your life, a friendship that's long since wilted, a parted loved one. Write for the beauty in life, the shimmering snail trails, the rustle of a falcon's feathers while in flight, the crescent moon.

Write for everything. Write for nothing. Write for no one. Write for the madness, for the hell of it. Write just because.

Just write.

Done is better than perfect, as they say.

Some details in life need a voice, however shaky and imperfect. Give these things a voice.

-penned by j. m. medna (2024)

#writing advice #me #mine #reminder #writing reminders #writing life #JUST WRITE #writeblr

[the-adventures-of-random]

597.

Random sat down and then stood up again. He did that a few more times, then he stood up and walked out of the room. We went into the waiting room and looked around for people. He didn’t see any, so he sat down by himself in the corner. He waited for a few moments then started to read through the magazine that was resting on the table. Random made a paper sculpture out of a page and then he made another one and another one, then he had built a whole city out of paper. Then the wind blew, and the city collapsed.

#random #Strange #random story #random stories #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #creative writing #weird #weird story #bizarre #writers on tumblr #write it motherfuckers #write-it-motherfuckers #original #just write #my writing #write #story #writing #words

[zak-dar]

Hey, vashwood nation! How to love your ship?

To be honest, Idk why, I feel myself sick, when I saw vashwood stuff, but… hmmm, I really want to enjoy every trigun fan works! And I’m very sad that I can't enjoy such a large and really amazing layer of fan creativity as vashwood fan stuff! 🥲

Update: why are you just put “likes”? Are you mocking me? Or you “like” every post with your fav ship tag? Please, write why are love your ship, and why others should like it.😔🥺🤲

#trigun #trigun 1998 #trigun stampede #vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #i’m serious #just write

[razziecat]

do you ever start writing something and it's like slogging through a swamp or hip-high snow and you're thinking omg this is soooo boring I hate it

#they say don't wait for inspiration #just write #my guy my dude my good sir #there is nothing but drivel in my brain right now

[penstricken]

8 Useful Blog Posts About Writing

Want to improve your #writing skills? Check out these 8 useful blog posts from other bloggers 👇 #writingtip #blog

I always try to bring the best writing advice I can to my blog, but sometimes, I just can’t say it as well as my fellow bloggers. I have therefore decided that it is time, once again, for me to share a list of blog posts about writing that I have found particularly useful in recent weeks so that you, too, can benefit from their wisdom. If you want to up your writing game, you could do a lot…

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#action #Apocalypse #bad advice #blog #bloggers #blurb #character development #critique #dialogue writing #editing #fiction #how not to write #John Steinbeck #JohnSteinbeck #just write #plot development #proofreading #senses #setting development #steinbeck #storytelling #survival #theme #WordPress #Writing #writing advice #writing for beginners #writing for business #writing for pleasure #writing for social media