writing is simple. i put my characters into a situation that i, the author, cannot figure out how to get them out of and i close the document
{ID: article from Reductress captioned ‘Just pure nothingness.’ The article itself features a picture of a woman staring into the middistance, her phone lax in hand as she thinks hard about something. The article’s title is, ‘Woman Accidentally Achieves Transcendent Mental Blankness While Trying to Add Two Numbers’ /end ID}
My main problem as a writer is that I don’t write because “I have a story to tell”. I write because there are worlds I want to visit, ideas I want to explore, people I want to meet, conversations I want to hear, emotions that I want to express, and impossibilities I want to make real.
Which means that I still need a fucking plot.
nobody is irrelevant. nobody is invisible. your neighbors know your name and see you set off to school or work or the backyard everyday, sometimes with a spring in your step and sometimes with hunched over shoulders. there was this one time some stranger pointed you out to their friends and said “that’s the haircut I want” or “I have that shirt, too” or “they go to my school”. someone has admired the way you carry yourself or gave a presentation or even the way you’re so polite when you first meet a person. you’ve made comments or jokes that have stuck in minds of overhearers and eavesdroppers. when old classmates of yours think back to kindergarten or fourth grade or sophomore year they remember you and have an opinion of you. you’ve made recommendations of songs and restaurants and even cookie brands and actually introduced people to their all-time favorites. the cashier at the grocery store knows exactly what laundry detergent your household uses, or even if you don’t do your laundry at all.
you can never be irrelevant. there’s pieces of you everywhere, in a dozen lives, in a hundred dreams, in a million memories. maybe it’s true that you don’t have any friends, and you have a sucky relationship with your family or no family at all and no-one ever checks up on you, and you’re really very lonely, but that doesn’t determine your worth. you do. and so do the billions of small attributions you’ve already made to the world, both long-term and short-term. so thank you.
its 2020 for the love of fu*k can we retire the term ‘problematic’
while i’m at it! shipping isn’t activism, negativity isn’t critical thinking, and can we stop pretending that yelling at content creators and other fans on twitter is anything more than a maladaptive coping mechanism manifesting as egotistical projections of public persona
I hope I can add: Stop forming deep parasocial relationships with online creators. Nothing good comes from it. Online creators are not your personal friends and u shouldn’t approach them as if they were.
hiromu arakawa is a genius because she made a huge muscular angsty warrior priest with an intensely tragic past who uses alchemy to murder war criminals in revenge who's so badass he doesn't have a canon NAME and is just called SCAR and she looked at him and said "you know what he needs? fatherhood" and decided to make his canonical best friend a four foot tall princess who wears pink and braids her hair and has a baby panda and thinks her life is a YA paranormal drama series
simpforcatra
“…getting lost in all she was and being just stupid enough to believe it would last more than a cruel summer…”
@princessofgayskull i love it and i can’t wait for cruel summer :)))
