Where Every Scroll is a New Adventure
Women Writers - Blog Posts
Sam Hook left the Navy SEALS for a new career as a professional golfer. He meets new friends that found bundles of cash floating in the Atlantic. The owners want their money back. What move does Sam make? #BookBoost #BookLover #thriller #writersofinstagram #WritingCommunity https://amazon.com/Center-Cut-Sam-Hook-novel-ebook/dp/
The worst thing you ever did was to make me believe I could be loved
If to love is to rest then I will perceive death for you.
For what greater form of rest do we know than to lie in the cold, dark earth forever?
Tw: self harm
Autumn still
The spring air is filled with laughter and serenity.
Not something to be tainted with my goddamn tragedy.
But I am alone and my wrist is bleeding.
Despair surrounds me like death to the grieving.
I don't know peace; I perhaps never will.
For my disconsolate existence it is autumn still.
Pic via pinterest
What can life offer anyway
That I can't have with you in death?
What feels more like home anyway
Than it does besides your grave?
Image via pinterest
The grave that I call my home
Where love doesn't exist.
The monster that I call my father
For whom peace doesn't exist.
The demon that I call my mother
For whom compassion doesn't exist.
The nightmare that I call my world
For which I dont exist.
The despair that I call myself
For whom joy doesnt exist.
The curse that I call my life
Where living doesn't exist.
There is love in my mother's disapproval.
It is there in the way she looks at me,
The way she loathes my existence.
It's not visible but it's there.
There is love in my father's resentment.
It is there in the way he talks to me,
The way he is ashamed of me.
It's not apparent but it's there.
There is love in my family.
It is there in broken dreams.
It is there in domestic scars.
So much love that you almost mistake it for hate.
The Pride of Chanur
I picked this up on a recommendation and I am really enjoying it. It was published in 1981 but doesn't feel old. Perhaps because it is sci-fi and there aren’t any obvious items to date it. I’m not very far in but so far it has me hooked.
Sometimes you had planned so much about a life with a certain person in it, that even a picture or a memory of them today can make you feel completely empty from inside. Although you were happily living your life on your own till yesterday and its been years of not being in touch with them.
Novelist Patricia Highsmith ate the same thing for virtually every meal: bacon and fried eggs. She began each writing session with a stiff drink—“not to perk her up,” according to her biographer, Andrew Wilson, “but to reduce her energy levels, which veered towards the manic.” Then she would sit on her bed surrounded by cigarettes, coffee, a doughnut and a saucer of sugar, the intention being “to avoid any sense of discipline and make the act of writing as pleasurable as possible.”
From Killian Fox, The Gannet’s Gastronomic Miscellany, 2017
More writers’ food habits from LitHub
over 103,000 words written and i’m still only about 60% through book 3…… that’s what i get for being a representative of the thicc book committee
it might also have something to do with the fact that i have nine main characters, tons of important side characters and plots, and lore that runs deeper than a rabbit hole but idk
just changed my already published book covers for a fourth time
Warming up engines, oiling the cogs. Wattys 2024 deadline: August. Back to writing. See u in wattpad soon friends.
An entirely new 1st part approaches.
I find myself lost in my own writing. I feel the wind on my skin and see flying beasts with eyes wide open.
If there has ever been anything true, is that I’ve always been one to get lost in words, when I can see them before they’re shaped.
I see it all so clearly. It’s like looking at a screen or a mirror. I dive into the projection and feel the breath of the world.
I’ve been writing a little every day, before I fall asleep. It’s when the ideas seem to be clearest.
Finally, today I felt like my first chapters are going in the right direction. The scene is being set. Connections are being made.
I hope the foundation is enough to make readers cry with what comes afterward.
I love writing fantasy. What I love so much about the genre is that there are no limits, no rules. Anything is valid. Everything is permitted.
I get to remake the world however I see fit.
Currently rewriting the first part of my novel because I hate the beginning.
Aint that swell?
I love writing. But it takes me forever to feel somewhat satisfied with a chapter. I do so mUCH research to make sure everything makes sense in the world.
The week before a trip
I have one week left before my 2 week trip to Japan as a foreign student. I’m excited, anxious, sort of scared. Also absolutely overwhelmed by piles of homework the new semester has thrust upon me.
I worry for the coming trip and whether I have the language skills to stand out and socialize with everyone.
The coming weeks will likely determine what the next decade of my life will look like, and I find myself at a crossroads; will I go study a new career or specialization in Norway, or Japan?
I’ve been pondering that question for a while now. Whether I should go spend 4 years studying in Norway or Japan; to which country am I going to dedicate years of my life to?
Which one is safest for me? Which one will offer the most cultural enrichment and knowledge? Which will nurture my true nature?
I don’t know the answers. I suppose time will tell.
Hear me please
“And as your breath leaves you, you’re taking my heart with you.”
“Please Eddie..Please come back to me… Don’t go where I can’t follow!”
“Please.. Please! If there ever was something listening to me, please hear me now! Please… don’t take him..”
‘Eddie damn you you stupid nerd. You stole my heart and now you’re taking my humanity with you.’
[Excerpt from my thought library, where I spend a shit ton of time writing my own fic for Eddie with an SPN crossover, simping for the bambi eyed freak and mourning him.]
All for you
“Anything else to add my love, Countess ruler of my undead heart?”
“I shared the life of me so you may live. You are the best gift the world has ever given me. You will not die today, Eddie the Banished. Because if you did, I’d raze this place to the ground and myself down with it.”
[Excerpt from my thought library, where I spend most of the time writing an Eddie fic with a nonsense setting and simping for my bambi freak.]
A little thought
Time cuts short whatever reverie I chase, every moment’s rest. Swamped by personal ambitions, the strain of a new semester’s pressures and expectations, and a soon coming trip to Japan, I find myself scrambling for something firm to hold on to.
Not because I’m feeling sadness or agony or overwhelming stress. Well, I am stressed. But what floods me is excitement in the uncertainty for the future and my hopes for it. It stresses me out, of course, makes me anxious.
However, I’m excited to discover what the world may have yet in store for me. At this point in my life, I believe the wicked hand fate dealt me is already over, and we’re now playing a new game. No more horrible events in my life will come to pass, I know. All the strife and grief and sorrow I went through is already over.
Now I’m supposed to heal and look for new paths into the future. Decide which I will take. Whether that is the path to Europe or Asia for my future studies; will I go study in Norway or Japan? And if so, will I study the same thing I do now, or something different?
I worry about my worth and skills to survive in the workforce in a crumbling society where there’s barely any difference between middle and lower class anymore. Where everywhere you go you see divides with no bridges.
Hm. Uncertain but excited. Perhaps for the first time looking forward to an uncertain, unknown future. Isn’t that fascinating?
I’d planned to participate in this year’s wattys, under the fantasy category. However, I revised the rules, checked the deadlines again, calculated how much time I had to work on my entry, and realized that it is wiser to wait until next year.
When it comes to something like the wattys, or any other serious competition you’d like to take part of, you mustn’t rush. I was going to rush to make it to the deadline. I realized that’d compromise the quality of my work and my chances of winning. I want to dish out the very best I can give of myself, by myself.
I cannot give my best if I rush to a deadline without having much time to revise. Sad, but the wattys will have to wait for me.
I just updated my fantasy novel! (Still working on editing the 1 part cuz I’m not very convinced. Will probably edit this newest one more too)
Me writing the most traumatic experience for my protagonist:
Writer things
Me doing research/studying for my novel:
-I’m just gonna read this passage of this book
Three hours later*
-Oh fuck
Sharing the beginnings of my fantasy novel here, hoping someone might feel drawn by the synopsis and take a peek inside.
As with any piece of writing, there’s still a lot of editing to do, but seeing it evolve and become something greater than you thought it could be at the beginning, is the lovely thing about the journey.
Copypasted synopsis from the wattpad version
In a war-torn world, the ancestral peoples of the Old Country are decreasing in number at an alarming rate, after two decades of war with the humans and elves. The Eagle-People have been pushed back so far from their lands they're going extinct, however there is the growing thunder of a rebellion in the West beyond the Athar Keep, where dragons lie in wait.
A lost eaglet torn cruelly from her family must now travel beyond the Keep, the only shelter left for those like her. However, what she'll find over the Wall will change the tide of the war.
All rights reserved.
I’ve been wanting to be a writer since I was nine, when I sat down and wrote my first story (I made drawings for it and was very excited haha).
Since then, I’ve evolved a lot, having up to 24+ novel ideas in my mind and written down that I want to write.
And now I’m taking the decision of writing one of them for real, starting with the 3rd story idea I ever had, the first idea I ever had with real potential to become a great thing.
I’ve decided to take it seriously now, because I realize I’m not getting younger. If I don’t do it now, when the hell am I going to? Just fantasizing about getting published or noticed by an editor but not doing anything to make that come true, WON’T make your dreams come true magically, with 0 effort from you.
So, I’m currently writing the first version of my first fantasy novel Initiation, in wattpad, with some illustrations! After I’ve finished it on there, I’ll self-publish it on kindle and ibooks with extra parts and the real illustrations with color and extra deets and quality!
Due to real-life and technical issues, writing has been delayed slightly more than first believed.
Thoughts
Memories are popping like zombies from a movie.
Ready to fight and unsure if I'm ready to die.
Doubts ready to devour me like the undead.
Ready to fight and unsure if I'm ready to die.
Fear filling me as I pretend I'm fine.
Ready to fight and unsure if I'm ready to die.
Grabbing any and all the weapons I can so I can be a hero of my own story.
