Eu tenho uma história no Wattpad e é a única que consegui concluir até agora. É sobre um jovem pai que tem que decidir sua prioridade: seu filho ou seu emprego. Na verdade é muito mais do que isso, mas não quero dar spoilers. Já faz um tempo que ela foi postada, mas até agora não me lembrei de postar aqui. Vou tentar trazer alguns conteúdos acerca da história por aqui, pois quero provar que ela vale a pena. Aqui está o link do primeiro capítulo para quem se interessar:
if you have a brain that really likes creating stuff, like
like u REALLY just love to make stuff,
I want you to know something.
this is very, very important
• you do not need to make something every day to still be an artist, it's okay to relax and enjoy things other people have made
• even if you don't finish your projects, they are still valuable
• big number on social media is the most painful thing to pursue and it relies heavily on luck and does not determine your worth
• you need to make art that isn't up to your artistic standards before you'll have the skills to create art you can be truly proud of
• drink some water. it's not related to being an artist but I know you're dehydrated.
It shouldn't be that hard: you simply need to sit down, and type. In fact, you are already sitting down. But you are scrolling down on Tumblr, once again, reading about your mutual's amazing works, and their compelling plots, and their amazing characters, and- You stop. No, you promised yourself you would work on your project today. It excites you, you have had it itching on your mind while you were busy, and now that you are free, alone in your room and with the whole afternoon for yourself, you can finally scratch that itch.
This is one I've posted before but I've actually learned how to properly scan and edit photos now so yeet
This is also one I remastered & it looks much better now
Fear holds me back. Because of it, I didn't allow myself many things. I didn't allow you to follow my dreams. I didn't allow myself to be myself and that's why I don't identify with the “me” that I show to other people. Sometimes even the “me” that I show to myself seem false to me. That's why I often feel like a fake.
I have a very brave friend. This friend encouraged me to overcome my fears and be more disciplined. As much as he is only in my mind, he is a friend more real than most of the friendships I have today.
You must imagine that I’m quite a lonely person... You guessed right. I haven't managed to cultivate many friendships during my life and I haven't allowed myself to be sincere in most of them... But not with this friend of mine. After all, how do you pretend to someone who knows everything you're thinking?
We've been friends since I was a kid. “We have” more or less the same age and, in a way, we matured together. Incredible as it may seem, we disagree many times, but it is not easy to undo this friendship. We already had a big fight, but not even that was able to undo that bond.
One day he alerted me: that I am not following the path I should have followed. He understands that the choice is mine, but he felt, or rather, he knew that I’d be in a lot of trouble in the future if I don't give up on this idea and dedicate myself to my projects again.
But as I said, fear holds me back. Fear has the unbearable habit of forcing me to do things I don't want to and paralyzing me when trying to do the things I really want. I had a fight with my friend and said that he wanted me to remain stagnant as usual. I didn't recognize myself in that fight, nor did I recognize my friend, because he, in the greatest calm in the world, something that is not very normal to happen, said that he understood my revolt and understood if I wanted to get away from him to think about something.
That's what happened and months went by. Not because I was still irritated with him, but because of the tasks that were given to me during that period. And I must say that as time passed I felt like a fake for a lot longer than I did before I walked down that road. Fear continued to make me camouflage who I really was to the people I came to know and the demands of everyday life only made the situation worse. Not to mention that masking who I really am can be unbearable over time. I really wasn't where I was supposed to be.
After not being productive and not fulfill the demands, I went into a state of shock. I got home after another tiring day paralyzed and nothing could make me leave that prison. Fear managed to trap me once more and there was no escaping it. I was isolated in my room for a long time. My relatives often knocked on the door to find out what was going on, but I always replied that I wanted to be alone and after many insistences I decided to lock the bedroom door and continue in that hell.
I decided to write what I was feeling to free myself and when I tried to get my diary, which was in a place that was difficult to access after not writing in it for so long, I came across many objects from the past. Many writings, extremely personal drawings... They were a mix of plans and promises that I hadn't been able to keep. Soon nostalgia came to the surface with a mixture of frustration, but even though I didn't know why, I decided to keep looking at all that.
If my friend appeared out of nowhere after that? No. That was a moment of silence. In the end, I wrote in the diary:
“I realized that I don't know myself and that I'm even less able to forgive the bad things I've done and the good things I've stopped doing. However, I want to change that and end this bad feeling I feel right now. My friend, if you're wandering through my mind, know that I really need your help. You were right and I didn't admit it at the right time. I know I have your forgiveness, but it is myself that I most need to forgive and be forgiven. I know there is no easy solution to my problem, I just want to feel better. But maybe I deserve to go through that pain.”
“Fear holds you back, but it doesn't always have to be like that.”
"I just want to know what to do..." I said.
“I don't have that answer, but you do and you're refusing to hear it. Fear doesn't have that answer and will never allow you to have it because it wants you not to know that to keep you imprisoned.
“Deep down you know what you have to do, you just don't know how to do it. Besides, you also know that I'm here for any situation, don't you?”
I agreed and kept thinking about those words. Of course, things didn't change overnight and it took me a while to feel confident, but that moment of reflection was something very meaningful for me. I am immensely grateful for having this friendship, but I hope that in the future I will not be so alone anymore.
Fear doesn't have to stop me forever.
sketch $40 (+$5 to add more characters so 2 characters is $45 USD etc.)
line art with detail: $50USD
watercolor portraits: $60USD +$5,10,15 based on complexity of background (applies to watercolor and gouache mediums)
reference sheets: $65USD (added cost for different mediums)
comics cost depends on medium and amount of panels (message for details if interested)
WILL NOT DRAW:
❌vore
❌nsfw
❌furries
payment methods: paypal, venmo, zelle
time: 1-3 weeks
you can see more examples of previous comms in the #tarocommissions<3 below
Please message me if you are interested or have any questions! If you want to commission but don’t have a solid idea, I do not mind making concepts and suggestions to help!! :D
And keep in mind you can receive a physical piece!! you can securely provide your address and then the payment for shipping is usually less than $5USD if you live in the states :)
tysm for all your love and support!
-taro <3
A. SHITTY. DRAFT. IS. ALWAYS. BETTER. THAN. NO. DRAFT.
Thank you.
Words: ~1.4k
Next Part (soon)
~*~*~*~
“Hello there, Princess. It’s nice to see you again.” The traitor grins down at her.
“What are you doing here?” She asks him.
“What? No hello?” He huffs a laugh, before seeing her dead serious expression. “Ah, actually, yeah. That’s fair. I don’t blame you.” He admits, his eyes flick to her wings twitching behind her, “Your wings are fixed,” he observes happily. “They look really nice.” He gives her a warm smile. It's the kind of smile that would have made her blush if they were still back in the woods before he betrayed her. But they're not, they're in the gruesome present. So, she just glares up at him.
“What are you doing here.” She asks more assertively, it’s more of a statement this time.
“Just enjoying this beautiful evening. You had the right idea; it is much nicer out here than it is in there” He grins, leaning against her path. His hands lay over the track her chain rides on. She’s not sure he knows he’s doing it, but he’s blocking her in. Fear creeps up her spine as she realizes that with just one casual gesture, he’s trapped her here.
“It was nice, until you came out to ruin it.” Her fear wrestles against her anger, but her anger comes out on top. “But I guess you like ruining things. So, congratulations.”
I'm really enjoying this fic. Everything is really interesting.
Wordcount: ~1.7k
~*~*~*~
Lark swallows her pride and makes a loud ruckus opening the door, giving the humans enough warning to separate themselves.
“It would be easier to get things done if I didn’t have to lug this blasted chain around with me, you know!” She grumbles, loudly scraping the chain behind her as she gathers it in her arms. “I’m certain my leg will be bruised forever at this rate.” She looks over to the prince with a dramatic sigh, the lady he was holding has now stepped a respectable distance away, not that they should care what she thinks. She’s just a “little insect” to them, as the lady so kindly put it. Perhaps they don’t want her to raise a big stink about it? Would anyone actually care if she told them? She doesn’t think so, and she doesn't care enough to consider what all they might be scheming. That will have to be a problem for her future self to handle. Her current self just has to survive this party, and then she can just go to bed.
“Are you alright, little princess?” It’s the lady who speaks, Lark’s wings twitch irritably at how she addresses her. Little Princess. Ugh. “It frightens me to think how easily that glass could have hurt you.” Though on the surface her words seem nice enough, her tone takes a taunting lilt. Lark narrows her eyes, looking at her for a moment before giving her a cold smile.
“Ah, yes. Humans are much clumsier than fairies. Accidents are bound to happen around more, ah, ogreish beings. It’s just… human nature.” She grins as the woman’s composure is shaken, “Thankfully, the only think that got hurt was my gown. I appreciate the concern miss..?” She trails off, leading her to share her name.
“Lady Natalia.” She says coldly, sounding much too enamored with herself, like her name carries some kind of weight. Well, it doesn’t mean anything to me, Lark thinks to herself. She repeats her name with a dismissive nod before looking over to the prince. She can’t help the sly smile from ghosting her lips as Lady Natalia bristles at being so quickly cast aside and ignored. Welcome to the club, lady.
“Are you ready?” Lark holds the chain out for Prince Oliver to affix back in place on his jacket. Once she’s reclaimed her spot on his shoulder, they are back to the ball.
Um desenho de um dos meus neopets.
Drawing of one of my neopets.
As a writer, allow yourself the headspace to be imperfect and you’ll realize how liberating that can be if you’re feeling pressured to get things *just right* all the time.
Each story is there to teach you something. At some point, by going over it again and again and again, you’re simply treading water. You’re not learning anything new. You’re not allowing yourself to advance to the next story that has something else to teach you - something that is vital to your growth and abilities as a writer.
So put THE END on your project and move on.
“But…but….it’s not perfect yet!”
That’s okay. That’s the point of moving on to the next project. You can get a better view of the mistakes you’ve made in the past by learning new perspectives and skills in the future.
Consider this your permission slip to release a project you’ve been fiddling with for ages. Let it go. Stamp it with a big red DONE.
Then you’re free to explore your next adventure with a new project!
Oii, como vai? Hoje eu gostaria de falar um pouco sobre como criar o habito de escrever.
Oii, como vai? É um prazer te receber mais uma vez, porque aqui estamos nós, o primeiro post do ano! E com a continuação de um projeto bem mais pessoal do que eu jamais pensei que fosse fazer nesse blog. Para aproveitar o ensejo do nosso diário, vou discorrer mais alguns pensamentos que eu geralmente não diria.
Oii, hoje quero compartilhar um problema que me abateu nesse ultimo ano, bloqueio ou trauma?
Apesar da ótica empírica com a qual grande parte dos espectadores veem a gastronomia, a preparação de um prato exige muito planejamento. Antes mesmo de ascender o fogo, o cozinheiro define seu objetivo, então organiza o local de trabalho, dispondo ferramentas e ingredientes necessários ao preparo da refeição.
Trata-se de um processo muito técnico e planejado, tal a escrita de um livro. No entanto, o preparo em seu aspecto mais cru não garante que o resultado final agrade ao paladar do consumidor. Da mesma forma que um livro excepcionalmente bem planejado pode não prender o leitor.
Isso ocorre porque, entre vários outros fatores, um livro e uma refeição aproximam quem produz de quem consome. Logo, o feito relacionado a bons pratos e um bom livro envolve muito além de técnica, fazendo-se necessário um olhar extremamente humano.
E é em cenas bem produzidas que podemos encontrar o diferencial.
@egbraga como vai? Gostei muito do seu texto, como sempre! Nos próximos capítulos vou discutir esses temas também. Sobre cenas e a emoção nelas, sabe? E essa cobrança autoimposta e o medo de falhar? Eu fiz um post assim, porém poucas pessoas tiveram acesso a esse conteúdo, obrigada por me lembrar disso. Sei que parece que só falo sobre planejamento, a verdade é que esse blog se tratava sobre técnicas de escrita já que na época não havia muitos espaços assim. Enfim, muito bom como sempre. Me trouxe algumas reflexões interessantes.
With so much writing advice out there telling you what to do and not do, it can be easy to forget that writing is an art, and there are no rules in art.
Yes, learning about different writing techniques is great. Developing a language to talk and think about writing is important. Absorb everything you can. Reading, studying, and practicing are integral to improving your writing. Obviously, I run a writing blog, so I believe in the power of increasing your knowledge about writing and literature.
But don’t forget that, in the end, you can do whatever the hell you want to. Experiment. Have fun. Play. Follow your instincts. Break the “rules.” And don’t listen to anyone who says that no one wants to read weird, nontraditional writing. They do.
For most of my writing life, I’ve kept my crazy, experimental stories hidden away, because it seemed like anything I wrote that wasn’t a straightforward, traditionally-structured story with a main character and a plot wasn’t appreciated by readers. But guess what? One of my weird-as-fuck stories won second prize in a contest this fall, and when I asked the editors why they chose it, they said they liked it because it wasn’t like every other story in the submissions pile. It was different. It was weird. It took a risk. And for that reason it stood out from everything else they read.
It took me years to quiet the chorus of conformity and embrace my weird side. Don’t let that happen to you. Get wild. Write whatever you want. Do it now. We need freaks like you, or we’re all going to whither and die of boredom. Give us everything you’ve got. We need it. We need YOU.
