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Writer

@writingsucksorisitjustme

Them: you have to write to be a writer | me: you have to what
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What I want writers and (potential) readers to understand

Writing is hard. That's the truth. Nobody is born with the ability to write a best selling novel overnight. Even if it's a talent, it needs to be polished and improved.

As someone who has been writing since the age of 12 (that's around 10 years now) I have learned a lot. But I'm not a perfect writer. Nobody is. Here are some things I want you to know:

  • Writers (including me) tend to stress about their first draft. That's just bullshit. The first draft is for the writer only. It will never be published. So write all the (unnecessary) stuff in there that comes into your mind. Worry about editing later.
  • This one especially targets readers of fanfictions and stories that are published online (like Wattpad): Readers seem to forget sometimes that there is a lot going on behind the scenes. Writing is not just putting words on paper. Writers have a personal life too and sometimes there are things happening that prevent them from continuing their project. Please be patient, especially when a writer is showing you their work for free. They're doing this as a hobby because they love it. Appreciate these writers.
  • In addition to "There is a lot going on behind the scenes": some writers make progress by other stuff than just writing. Maybe they connect plot ideas, draw for visualization and so on. As for myself, I try to make my characters as relatable as possible. This includes looking for questions about OCs that may seem not important but believe me: it is. Writers want to know their own characters so that they can write them.
  • When writers show you their progress, please give feedback! I can’t stress this enough. Try to be as constructive as you can. But please choose your words carefully.
  • Let's face it, nobody can satisfy everyone. There will always be someone who doesn't like your work. And that's perfectly fine.
  • When you get criticism, try to learn something from it. This doesn't mean your work is bad!
  • There are a lot of writing tips and advices on the internet. They will not work for everyone. Find your own way, get inspiration from some of these tips and adapt them to your writing. Don't follow them step by step.

PS: Feel free to add on!

PPS: Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistake, English is only my second language

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Day 5

Day 5 isn’t tooooo bad but here goes

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The Necromancer and the Dead Corpse

I stare lifelessly out across the graveyard. Everything’s the same, yet everything’s different. The colors seem duller, like I’m looking at everything through muddy water. No matter how much I move my eyes or turn my head, it’s still the same landscape. My limbs feel heavy, like I’m dangling from a string, yet the move on as if they aren’t. 

Somethings not right. The phrase keeps repeating in and out of my head. I shake it off and ignore the feeling. Instead, I have a more pressing task at hand. I stumble forward in search of what? All I know is that I have to find it before time runs out. I dig through the brush and search through the jumbled headstones. My eyes pass over name after name. 

That’s when I feel it. Reading the stone, I barely make out the name Wrenderson. It’s just a prick of a feeling, yet noticeable enough for me to know. Dirt burrows under my fingernails as I dig fervorously into the grave. Just a little further. 

There! My fingers scrape something other than dirt. Pushing it all away, I uncover a simple book. Bound in leather, it holds nothing no writing or decoration along it’s cover. The pages feel brittle to the touch and have unfamiliar writings across the pages. I gather into my coat and scramble up the side of the grave. 

I dart across the yard back to what? All I know is that I need to get back. The feeling that something’s not quite right returns. I continue to ignore and press my feet harder into the earth. Returning is all that matters.

I see a strange figure in the distance. Sweet relief feels me and a cozy feeling settles over me, as if this person is the only one that matters. I skid to a stop and collapse to my knees. Without hesitation, I remove the book from my jacket and lift to the figure. Darkness hides his face, yet I can still sense that he is pleased. 

With a flick of a wrist, I’m released. From what? The thought momentarily passes then I’m falling. My head hits the dirt, but I can no longer feel my body. My limbs no longer feel heavy, but lightless and free. And unmovable. 

Looking up at the figure, I can no longer see him. The more I look, the less I see. Only darkness that keeps getting darker. Panic sets in, but I can’t see, can’t move, can’t anything. I struggle to no avail. My panic only subsides when the sweet aroma of pomegranate fills the air. 

With a newfound calmness, I fall back into Death’s waiting arms. Everything feels right again. Death is where I belong and Death is where I shall stay. No longer a puppet, I can finally be free at last to enjoy my slumber. 

#writing prompt#writing#prompt#drawing prompt#art
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Day 4

Day 4 is short and sweet? if you can call it that. Hopefully it’s not too bad to read...

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Mech with Sword and Shield

“Please don’t hurt me.” Plankton shrinks away from his angry wife. 

“Too late.” Karen beeps out.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Plankton whimpers while backing away. “I’ll do anything.”

“You had your chance.” 

“Please don-” Plankton’s cries cut off and turn to screams then to gross sobs. He can only watch as his wife destroys his life’s work- the Krabby Patty Formula. Finally stolen from Mr. Crabs, Karen burns the formula to ashes. He watches as she mulitates the first- and only- Krabby Patty he’s gotten his hands on. She angry storm that he cannot stop. All he can do is beg for mercy. 

“Are you happy now?” Plankton chokes out in anguish. 

“Not until our marriage is over.” Karen beeps out heartlessly.

Plankton only sniffles in response. What else is there to say? Karen destroyed his one and only dream- to taste a Krabby Patty. Any why you ask? All because he didn’t like her new screen setting.

#prompts#writing prompt#art#writing#drawing prompt
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Day 3

Day 3 was actually successful!! I’ve finished a story I can be proud of it! And it isn’t that bad!

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Courage

Courage. Bravery. Fearlessness. They all mean the same thing. People usually follow these words with ‘standing up for what’s right’ - as if they know what they’re talking about. Most people haven’t done a courageous act in years.

Including myself.

Never had I stood up for that lone kid in the hall. Or sat with them at lunch. I have yet to ask my crush out. I’ve never gone to the doctor alone or ordered my own food. All it takes is a little courage they say, as if the fear magically disappears. 

But what about them?

For me it’s the lonely kid in the halls. For them it’s the homeless person on the streets they refuse to help for fear it won’t go to what they want it to. For me it’s a hopeless crush. For them it’s the signing of divorce papers instead of talking things out for fear of what? Them staying with the one you love- as if that’s such a bad thing. For me it’s a dozen little things that really don’t matter. For them it’s a thousand big things that affect everything.

Maybe they don’t do certain things for fear that their image is tainted. Maybe it’s keeping things hidden so that people don’t judge. Maybe it’s keeping every problem, every opposing opinion, every that’s different in a neat little box so the world doesn’t know the truth. 

Maybe that’s the problem.

Everyone is so scared of being themselves that we would rather let the world crumble. Your told to act one way and so you do for fear of becoming that lone kid in the halls. Yet it’s the different ones make the difference. They’re the ones who are remembered, who become legends, who became the history makers. 

All because they had the courage to be a little different.

People like to say all the time to have courage. Get over your fears. It’s not that hard. You can do it. But how am I supposed to listen to such world changing words when they come from people who flow into the mindless mold of society.

How, how, how?

At least my courage fails when I go to the doctor, not when the world collapses from the fears society has. At least I don’t watch endless dictators come to power, endless hunger go ignored, endless destruction of the earth all because I asked myself ‘what if my neighbors disapprove?’ 

Maybe someday I’ll overcome my fears. Maybe someday I’ll start listening. Maybe someday I’ll have the courage to do what’s right. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I will. Maybe that day will come when I’ve become a mindless drone sucked into society. Maybe I’ll be different. Maybe, maybe, maybe. It’s all a bunch of maybes. But I know one thing for sure.

All it takes is a little bit of courage.

#prompt#writing#writing prompt#art#drawing prompt
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Day 2

Day 2 was a little more successful. We did give up due to no plot... but anyway it made it further than Day 1. And managed to give even trashier....

Well, here you have it

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Saint Peter

Yo, what’s up homies, this is your boy Saint Peter. Whaaaaat, you don’t know who I am? I roll with yo man Jesus and the gang. Ya know, big almight dude in the sky had a kid with freaky magic powers? That’s my man Jesus. And you know what? Jesus had so much freaky magic that he was like ‘here man, have some.’ I was all like ‘nah, bro. I don’t want no magic of yours.’ And he was all like ‘too bad.’ 

So now I’m like a saint or somethin like that. I now get to go around healin and all and droppin some sick beats about my main man. And don’t even get me started about this shadow of mine. Even in the dark it follows me around healin and all. Never again will I go into a graveyard- that was some freaky business right there, let me tell ya. 

Now, anyway, I was spreading some gospel about ma homie when this blind dude dropped in wanting to be baptized and all that. Told him no big deal man, lead to this rad lake and got to blessin. This dude has his spiritual connection with the big man and all like all these new comers do. And next thing ya know, boom! This dude can see. I’m all like nah, bro, I’m outta here. You ain’t goin to find where I signed up for this freaky deal. I call up Jesus and am like ‘yo, bro. Whadya do to me?’ Jesus is all like ‘you can heal some peeps, bro.’ And I’m over here like ‘Not cool bro, not cool.”

So anyway I’m stuck with this now and let me tell you… it ain’t cool at all bro. Everywhere I walk it’s all like ‘help me Peter, help me.’ And I’m over here like ‘stay away from me ya creeps.’ Can’t walk in no forest either with grass and stuff springing up at my feet. I walk in a field and it’s like insta harvest. Ain’t nowhere I go that’s magically healed and alive suddenly. 

Why can’t I be like Jonas who got to breath underwater and live in a whale. Or David with his super strength. Or John with his mad writer skills. Noooo, Jesus had to give me the lamest one of them all. Of all his freaky magic I get healing? healING? hEALING? OF COURSE IT’S HEALING!!! Jesus must think I’m some weak ass bitch boy to give me healing. 

#writing prompt#writing#art#drawing prompt#prompt
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Day 1

Day one of my new challenge! I pick a drawing prompt, draw it, then write about. And it is not going well...(I didn’t even finish)

Anyway, here it is, in all it’s trashy glory...

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Penny the Snake

This is Penny. 🐧 Penny isn’t your everyday snake. She’s large and is black and sprouts feathers instead of scales. She isn’t as cute as her sisters, either. In fact, she doesn’t look like her sisters at all. They’re long, and green, and have the perfect array of scales. It’s very awkward at family reunions- but that’s another story.

All day long Penny stares into the ice wishing she was like her sisters. And all day long her sisters try cheering her up. 

“Doesssn’t ssshe look amasssing?” Sally boasts to Samantha.

“Penny’sss the prettiessst sssnake in the Jungle.” Samantha hisses out in reply.

“No I’m not!” Penny wails. 

#prompt#writing prompt#drawing prompt#art#writing
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stars-on-fire7
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frognonbinary

i’ve been doing my homework on how to break into a writing career and honestly. there’s a Lot that i didn’t know about thats critical to a writing career in this day and age, and on the one hand, its understandable because we’re experiencing a massive cultural shift, but on the other hand, writers who do not have formal training in school or don’t have the connections to learn more via social osmosis end up extremely out of loop and working at a disadvantage. 

like, i didnt know about twitter pitch parties!! i didnt know about literary agents and publishers tweeting their manuscript wishlist, in hopes that some poor soul out there has written the book they really want to read and publish!! this isnt some shit you learn about in school! you really need to know the ins and outs of the writing community to be successful! 

for anyone interested, here’s what i’ve learned so far in my quest for more writing knowledge:

1. Writer’s Market 2019 is a great place to start– it gives you a list of magazines and journals that you can send your work to depending on the genre as well as lists a shit ton of literary agents that specify what genres they represent, how you can get in contact with them and how they accept query letters. this is a book that updates every year and tbh i only bought it this year so i dont know how critical it is to have an updated version  

2. do your research. mostly on literary agents because if you listed on your site that you like to represent fluffy YA novels and some asshole sends you a 80k manuscript about like…gritty viking culture, you will be severely pissed off. always go in finding someone who you know will actually like your work because they’re the ones who will try to advocate for you in getting published.

3. learn how to write a query letter. there are slightly varying formulas to how you can write an effective query letter. you’re also going to want to get feedback on your query letter because its the first thing the literary agent will read and based on how well you do it, it could be the difference between them rejecting you outright and giving your manuscript a quick read

4. unfortunately, you’re gonna want to get a twitter. Twitter is where a lot of literary agents are nowadays, and they host things like twitter pitch parties, where you pitch your manuscript in a few sentences and hashtag it with #Pitmad #Pitdark, some version of pit. a lot of literary agents and publishers will ALSO post their manuscript wishlists, which is just the kind of books they’d like to represent/publish, and they hashtag this with #MSWL (it is NOT for writers to use, only for agents/publishers)

5. connect with other writers, literary agents, publishers at book events. you will absolutely need the connections if you want to get ahead as a writer. thats just kind of the state of the world.

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promptsforthesoul
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writing-prompt-s

When you die, you appear in a cinema with a number of other people who look like you. You find out that they are your previous reincarnations, and soon you all begin watching your next life on the big screen.

If I shared anything with my reincarnations, it was in our belief in fate. Though each previous version of me held a very different perspective of it. The me that had died in the Great Depression thought it a terrible thing, wicked and omnipotent. The me that had lived as king in the middle ages thought it a gift presented by God. Me, I believed it a promise.

My next reincarnation was a baby with deep blue eyes and pink skin named George. He started his life alone. George cried so much that they had to put him in a separate room, devoid of the other infants. A nurse checked in on him every few hours. Nobody blamed her. She had more pressing matters to attend to, such as George’s mother, whose heart rate was steadily growing out of control and her breathing stuttered.

When the young lady died, she did so whispering her son’s name. I wasn’t sure if she ever even got a look at him. In that hospital room, with the flat-line beep of a heart rate monitor, the nurse checking on George stood, lips quivering and fists clenched.

In this world, children were supposed to be loved by their parents. If not the mother, who else would? For George, it was nobody, not even himself.

The orphanage boasted posters of smiling blonde-haired boys and girls with deep blue eyes. George could’ve been a literal poster boy if he ever smiled. But no matter how many stuffed animals they threw his way, how many hugs and smiles they offered him, they could never get those lip-locked edges to curve up.

By the time he had hit thirteen, he had already smoked his first cigarette and drank his first beer. Nobody wanted to tell him, but everybody knew. Nobody adopted teenagers. He would be a lifer, an unwanted child turned into an unwanted adult.

And on his seventeenth birthday, he bought a gun.

None of us watching were worried at all for other people. Despite everything that happened, George was a gentle boy and that was his problem. Nobody could reach him through his overpowering politeness. It took a mother’s love to chip away at the boy and all he had was an old photo of a ghost who once loved him.

He snuck out when the moon had hit its apex, left all the money he had in a small package with a letter. It read: Thanks for taking care of me. And that was it. He didn’t sign it, didn’t address it to anyone, he wrote it all in a cheap pen and stuffed it inside with twelve-hundred dollars cash.

The spot he chose was out of the way. Nobody was nearby to be disturbed. No runners would come this way to be scared. The only selfishness he allowed himself was that it was by a river, a black canvas of glittering moonlight.

“I was never meant to live,” he told himself and us. “This is fate.”

Some of us nodded with him. Others shook their heads. I stared, my neck stiff, eyes unblinking as he put the gun to his temple.

“No,” I whispered. “Don’t do it.”

Some of us, the more boisterous ones, cheered along, egging the boy to pull the trigger. They had seen a thousand lives and would see a thousand more until all of mankind vanished. A single life in a single point of time meant nothing to them. But for me, this was my first.

“No,” I said and stood from my seat. “Please.”

The screen flickered to the tremble of his finger. Soon, it would go completely black. He would fulfill his fate.

“No!” I screamed. “This isn’t how it should go!”

The boisterous ones were no longer laughing. The others around me turned away their eyes. At one point in time, they had all been me. They had thought that life mattered, that our pain had meaning. But after a thousand shows of a thousand lives, most of them only slept through the show.

I clenched my fists, the words swelling in my lungs. Then, I took the breath to give them life and I prayed, that somehow, I wasn’t just a dead man with a loud mouth.

“Don’t pull,” I yelled, tears pouring down my cheeks and snot from my nose. “Not until you have a chance. Maybe you never will, maybe this will be how it always is, maybe I’m wrong about everything, but there’s meaning in your pain! I can’t tell you if I’m right or if I’m certain.” My voice dropped low. “I can only promise.”

George closed his eyes. He hadn’t heard me, of course he wouldn’t.

I held my breath.

Then, George broke down, the gun still pressed to his head. “So cruel,” he whispered to nobody. “After all this, all I have is a promise. That’s all my fate has to offer.”

My eyes went wide. My jaw dropped. “And that’s enough,” I said, my voice too low even for myself to hear.

There, George stood, the gun rigid in his hand. And when his tears fell, so too did his gun.

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it-begins-with-rain asked:

((This is Rhysand-vs-Rowan)) Once you get this, you have to say 5 things (publicly) about yourself that you like. Then send this to ten of your favorite followers😍

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Why do I always see these late?Anyway, here I go:1. My music skills2. My art skills3. My humor (more like sarcasm)4. My hair (it's really long and curly)5. My reading speed

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rhysand-vs-fenrys
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feyre-archerons-scrapbook

A Taste of Darkness - a Manorian fic

A long, angsty Manorian fic. This takes place after Empire of Storms, so this is your spoiler warning.

I’ve absolutely loved writing this! I’m such Manorian trash, I couldn’t stop writing them. Thank you to the wonderful @rhysand-vs-tamlin / @pretendthisiswitty for being my beta, you’re a star.

Feedback is greatly appreciated.

Find me on AO3 

Dorian Havilliard was exhausted.

A week had passed since the events on the sand dunes of Ellywe; since Aelin, since his friend, had been whipped and broken all over again, and entombed inside an iron coffin. There had hardly been a moment to let those events sink in, before he had set off on the backs of the wyverns with the Thirteen, heading north towards the Wastes. Now, sheltered inside a rundown castle on the edge of the former witch kingdom, those thirteen witches stood shoulder to shoulder with him around a large circular table.

Keep reading

Manorian!!!!! I loved beta reading this fic, and it is still one of my favorites you have written ^_^ wonderfully cerebral and awesome!

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reblogged

Reblog if it’s ok for people to give you $599.99

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sailed-0ut

Please don’t hesitate

1 penny below reporting limit for the IRS… I see what you did there

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shysweetthing

(Don’t give me $599.99)

That’s not the right IRS rule.

$599.99 is the amount below which a business does not need to issue a 1099 to a contractor who provides business services. The contractor still needs to report the income on their taxes.

The correct number for the IRS rule for money that is gifted rather than received in a business transaction is $13999.99–more than that, and the recipient has to pay tax on the gift and report it to the IRS. Less than that, and there’s no taxation or reporting requirement.

If we’re choosing amounts on the basis of IRS limits, give these people $13,999.99. 

Go. Do it.

Reblog if it’s ok for people to give you $13,999.99

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flutejesus

Please

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rhysand-vs-fenrys

Shuffle Tag

I was tagged by @aelin-and-feyre, @highladyofluna, and @dragonbound135 (If I forgot anyone I’m sorry!)

Rules: put your music library on shuffle and list the first 10 songs. Then tag 20 different people! 

  1. If I Lose Myself Tonight- One Republic
  2. Season 2 Finale- Galavant (Guys, you have no idea how much I love “Galavant”, it’s on netflix, if you haven’t seen it you should!)
  3. I Bet My Life- Imagine Dragons
  4. There is an Answer- A Great Big World
  5. Paddy’s Green Shamrock Shore- The High Kings
  6. Something Wild- Lindsey Stirling
  7. Love Hangover- Jason Derulo
  8. I’m a Loner- C.N. Blue
  9. Walk Through the Fire- Buffy the Vampire Slayer
  10. The Infection- Disturbed

Tagging:  @rhysand-night-incarnate, @feyre-archerons-scrapbook (I think you’ve been tagged but adding PRESSURE), @noonesjob @highladyyfeyre, @madiemo, @the-bookish-soul, @amrens-jewelry, @angryfemur, @highladyoferilea, @dorianthekinkymf, @feysandsmut, @tntwme

And anyone else who’d like to do it!

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writingsucksorisitjustme

Finally doing this!

Whiskey Lullaby - Brad Paisley, Alison Krauss Talking Body - Tove Lo Even If It Breaks Your Heart - Eli Young Band Girl On Fire - Alicia Keys It's Time to Begin - Master of Youth Hall of Fame - The Script Tattoos on This Town - Jason Aldean Runnin' Outta Moonlight - Randy Houser My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark - Fall Out Boy Friday Night - Eric Paslay

I’m just gonna tag anyone who wants to do it, I guess

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it-begins-with-rain asked:

(Since I can't do anon, this is Rhysand-vs-Rowan :) )You make me happy! Go on anon (or not) and send this to ten people who make you happy. If you get some back, awesome! Have a fan-freaking-tastic day. You deserve it! 💚

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I feel bad that i’m just now seeing this

Seeing you on my dash makes me just as happy!

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