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#not that i'm a writer

–which really means I’ll eat less sweets from now on. 

You probably already guessed it. Yes, I got sick again and the #1 culprit is sweets. As much as I love sweets, I think I’m going to have to give some of them up because my body is suffering. I remember making this same promise a few times before, but this time I really mean it. If I can go four years without drinking soda, then I can definitely go at least a month without eating sweets, right? Right. Let’s hope I can keep that promise. 

Anyway, because I was sick the whole weekend I basically set aside everything I needed to do and instead binged on Critical Role and on a local YouTuber. Is it bad that I don’t feel guilty? I was supposed to review for an exam (which I took yesterday) but I let my inner demons dictate my weekend. As expected, the result is that I’m not too confident with my performance in that exam. I know. I should be learning from my mistakes. 

My writing sounds off today. I don’t know whether it has something to do with the fact that I’ve been conversing (and thinking) more using my mother tongue lately. Maybe I should start writing in my first language? I don’t know. I might. 

That’s all for now. I don’t want to write anymore. Everything seems off.

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Have you ever had a thought... Like one of those wonderland-ifull ideas but no matter what its seems like you kinda don't get yourself like its in another language or forgotten? trust me as a writer it happens...... ALOT!!!

Forgetting ideas? Yes, quite frequently. Which is why one should do their best to write notes to yourself. Coming up with ideas that seem nonsensical? Yes, but many of the times I can address the fact that they’re usually fanciful things purely created for the idea of amusing myself. Creating logic within the illogical, I suppose.

That said, it sounds like your trouble might be the translation of thoughts into tangible words– via writing? Have you ever considered letting your brain do a sort of… unconscious rambling onto paper/typewriter/computer? Just letting it become a stream of consciousness, of ideas, and later come back and see what you wrote. Perhaps, afterwards, you might be able to pick out the ones you were looking for, and lay them out neatly in a row. 

I imagine as an experiment it couldn’t HURT, in any case.

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Originally posted by wild-aloof-rebel

ASDFJKDHKJG this was the nicest thing to get in my inbox??? THANK YOU! I literally grinned like an idiot on my balcony when I read this! Your comments are so [sob] nice and I’m so thrilled that you’ve [sob] read so many of my ships, sorry there’s just something in my eye, don’t mind me!

[It was feelings. I had feelings in my eye.]

Seriously though, thank you so much!! Benefaris!

- Love from your friendly neighbourhood Pikapeppa xoxo

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anyway, i just want to say that i love my dash 99% of the time. there are people i love with my whole heart on this dash. who do nothing but astound and amaze and delight me. who are socially aware / socially active / cautious / careful / kind. i follow a lot of people who i would trust to stick up for me on the street when others would cross to the other side. i follow a lot of people who i would gladly stick up for when accusations are thrown around because i see them. i see the kind of people they are. i know that they walk the walk when they talk the talk. i know that what they say on the dash is what they say in private is what they say in the face of bigots. 

i follow people who are amazing writers / talented creators / really fucking good people. i follow people who might not be vocal on the dash, but they’re the first in your ims / dms / askbox. they’re the first to block. they’re the first to reblog and message their friends to stay safe. i follow people who continue to pour support to me even when i do jack shit. even when i’m not here. even when i’m not active. even when it seems like all i post are sad updates or shitposts. 

i follow people who don’t have the skin in the game, but put their skin in the game when it matters. who educate themselves on the struggles of others. who offer a hand. who lift up the voices of the oppressed. who know when it’s time to step back and when it’s time to step up. i follow people who fight for representation for people who don’t look like them. who don’t experience the world like them. i follow people who give voices and respect to characters who might not get it in the real world. 

i follow people who actively make the world a better place by existing and trying and trying again. whether it’s directly related to social justice issues. whether it’s related to grief and pain and loss and hurt. whether it’s being an ally or a friend or an ear or a mutual or a follower who just says ‘i have made space for you. i will always make this space for you.’

my dash is really, really good most days. it’s really, really good. and i love it. so after two separate posts reminding people of who i am and where i stand on this blog, i want you to know if i follow you, i appreciate you. and every time you weather the storms in your life or on the dash, when you come out the other side still fighting to be a good force in the world, i see you. and i thank you.

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Kathryn stared at the picture frame she had propped on the desk in her office. The glass was still broken from when she had dropped it last August, scrambling to find her blue backs. It hadn’t been worth replacing at the time. She’d been too busy and then she’d just kept on forgetting.

She scoffed, skimming through the paperwork again. She knew she had been lying to herself.

And if she was being honest, because what was the point anymore, she’d always hated that picture. Her mother-in-law’s wedding dress, that Ruth had insisted she wear, the preacher who went entirely off script, David’s brother, the lying jackass, standing just out of frame and nudging David with his elbow.

Well. That was just another thing they had in common.

No. No.

She wasn’t going to let herself get angry. Angry was for kicking boxing classes. Angry was for deep-cleaning the attic. David and his family bullshit? That wasn’t worth her anger anymore.

She sighed, rubbing at her eyes as she continued flipping through the documents.

That was also a lie.

She had been livid when she drafted the complaint. She knew better than filing on grounds of adultery. But she had finally managed to get a copy of the phone records and–

She wasn’t going to think about it again, how the therapy, all of his promises–


The judge was just going to have to deal with it.

Kathryn pushed back her chair, shuffling the papers into identical piles. She’d get the sheriff to serve him and they were going to hash this thing out, one way or another. She wasn’t worried about having to go to trial. She had more than enough proof. And she was done compromising.

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Every time you fall asleep, you die. You have to go through it again and again, not knowing if you will wake up tomorrow. You don’t feel alive anymore. Everything is just a dream, just an illusion, just a mirage. You are just a ghost now. A side character in your own life. Nothing but a physical body. You only feel one emotion. Fear. Fear, that you will die. For real this time. Fear, that you won’t wake up the next morning.

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@adaparkwrites and @notwritinganyflufftoday both tagged me to do this, here’s the last line(s) I wrote for An Arabian Warrior my WIP:

“You see your Majesty? His speech, his thoughts are beyond irreligious,” hissed the priest who was staring so pointedly at the prince. “It is heathenism itself! Such ideas are sinful and unholy, derived from the pagans and a dangerous diversion from the Holy path of God itself!” 

Felipe protested, “I don’t wish to be a heathen, I only want to benefit our country!” 

“Felipe, who put such ideas in your head? Our country and religion are prosperous and correct, the Moros are a savagery and the Jews a poison to the Earth, both tempting people away from the religion of God,” the King said gravely. 

I tag @morgan-s-writes and @writingwitherebus and @tokiobaby and @starlitpromises-writings

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Game by Isabella ( @/nothingisliteral )

1. Word or Google Docs?

2. Spiral or book bound notebook?

3. Ya or Na?

4. Self publishing or traditional?

5. Blue or black ink pens?

6. Times New Roman or Georgia?

7. Writing in the morning or the afternoon?

8. Writing at 12 pm or 12 am?

9. Is your fave writing buddy a person or a pet?

10. Keep my writing to myself until I die or show it to everyone vaguely interested?

11. Writing inside or outside?

12. Writeblr or writblr?

13. Editing while writing or after?

14. Playlists or mood boards?

15. Faceclaims or fanart?

16. If your book were published and a tv show was to be made of it: cartoon or live action?

17. Nanowrimo or Camp Nano?

18. Plotter or Pantser?

19. Do you get inspiration before going to sleep or while in the shower?

20. Would you rather be a truly famous author or an local gem author?

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