#finding the motivation to write

[3hks]

How to BEGIN Writing Your Story

Generally, the biggest problem I find in the whole writing community, especially new writers, is that they just CAN'T actually start writing.

I'm a huge victim of that too, but I have found several ways that at least get me motivated to write, and that's what I'll be sharing today!

1. Remember that you don't have forever

One of my problems is delaying myself from writing my book because I feel like I have all the time in the world.

The truth is, I don't. No one does. If you ever feel too relaxed about starting your story, remember that you don't have forever. If you don't start writing, there's going to be a point where you never will.

Something that helps me is to have a deadline, especially for my shorter works. Actually, I follow the deadlines for writing competitions submissions, regardless of whether or not I'll participate in it.

2. Don't get too caught up with planning

If you're writing a longer story, there's no problem in planning--it's arguably the right thing to do--but don't get overly caught up in it. It's far too easy to lose motivation, and before you know it, you've dropped planning and haven't even began writing.

There are some ways to combat this: outline things quickly to get a sense of the plot, plan a bit first, then write, and repeat, or just begin drafting and rectify and mistakes in a later draft. However, if you're the type who NEEDS to intricately plan everything out, then go ahead! My only suggestion is to finish it as fast as you can; it can be messy but get it done fast.

Time and motivation are your biggest enemies and closest friends.

3. Don't think too far

When writing a book you know will be long, beginning to write can seem like a daunting task because once you start, you have so much to get through.

Break it up into smaller pieces and focus on accomplishing those pieces one by one. Set realistic goals. Don't get ahead of yourself--we all move one step at a time.

4. Remind yourself that IT IS POSSIBLE

People have completely finished writing stories with hundreds of thousands of words before, and many of them have started where you are too! You can do it if you try!

5. Remind yourself of your goals

When you initially wanted to write this story, why did you want to? When you lose sight of where this book is headed or you feel like your motivation is draining, tell yourself why you're doing this, tell yourself that your story will impact people, but you have to get it out there first.

Visualize your success.

6. Find people to work with

If you enjoy socializing with others, find a community of other writers or a partner that you can connect with and will encourage you to continue writing.

Sometimes, it's easier to begin when other people are telling us to.

Of course, this advice is not applicable to everyone--I don't even follow it--but it's something that could be helpful to you!

7. Get rid of distractions

I'm sure people have told you this a million and one times, but get rid of distractions. Trust me, your productivity will SKYROCKET when you're not scrolling every five minutes.

Instead, utilize these distractions as rewards to motivate yourself! Did you write two hundred words today? Take a break and go on your phone!

8. Remember that this just the first draft

Your first draft doesn't have to be perfect. Honestly, it never will. Don't be so concerned about the quality of your first draft, just move forward so you have something to work with.

You can fix all the mistakes later, but you need to first be willing to make mistakes so you have something to correct.

Don't reread the paragraph you wrote a minute ago over and over, don't stress about pacing or balance, you can always work on that in your next draft.

***

Having the motivation to begin writing is always the hardest part, but it's not impossible! Don't be too hard on yourself; you won't write anything you can't fix!

Just get out there, pick up a pen or open a doc, and start writing!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[annalu86]

Nothing

Lucy: I’m heading over in 20 minutes, what food shall i pick up?

Tim: what ever you feel like is fine with me. No mushrooms, nothing too weird.

Lucy: obviously.

40 minutes later.

Lucy: change of plans, sorry. Tamara’s had a crappy day. I’m going to eat here and talk it over with her a bit. Sorry!

Tim: it’s ok, hope it’s not nothing too bad.

Lucy: she’ll survive, nothing a tub of ice cream can’t fix.

Tim: please tell me that’s not all you two are going to eat?!

Lucy: we would never do that…

Tim: hmmmm

30 minutes later.

Tim: open your door.

Lucy: huh?

Tim: go and open your front door.

Lucy: what have you done?

Tim: just do it, boot.

Lucy: watch it sgt.

Lucy: oh Babe that’s so kind, you didn’t have to do that. You should have knock and come in, that’s enough pizza for 3!

Tim: I didn’t want to interrupt your time with Tamara. I did want you both to eat something other than ice cream though.

Lucy: always look out for me.

Tim: obviously.

Two hours later.

Lucy: go and open your front door.

Tim: lucy it’s late you should be in bed

Lucy: Tim. Stop bossing me around and do as you’re told.

Tim: fine but if there’s an empty pizza box on my door step, I’m going to get you put on front desk duty tomorrow.

Lucy: scary!

The door to Tim’s house swung open, wide. On one side of the doorway stands a tall, semi clothed man, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. Looking down at the ground expecting to see an empty pizza box, or some such item and instead coming face to face (or as close as they get with there height difference) to a young women, dressed in sweats with what at first glance appears to be one of his sweatshirts.

“Hi” she says simply

“Hi” he echoes, then “it’s late, you should be in bed”

“Well that’s an offer!” She grins widely and he splutters

“I wasn’t…” he chokes out

“I know” Lucy soothes between giggles “I came to say good night…” she takes a step forward, closing the gap between them. Reaching up on to her tip toes and place a hand on his bare chest for balance she kisses him softest on the lips “and… “ she says, breaking the kiss “thank you…” before reaching back up and kissing him again.

This time one hand winds around her waist and the other up into her hair. Keeping her firmly in place. For several moments they stay like that, on his door step, fortunate that the late hour spares them from an audience.

“Are you coming in?” His voice in deep and he stands back a little to welcome her into his house

“I’ve got to get back and get to bed”

“You could just have a drink before driving home” he encourages

“Tim” she looks up at him through her lashes “we both know nothing would get drunk and I would not be getting home and time soon”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing” his eyes twinkle

“See you tomorrow” she says firmly

“Fine” he huffs slightly “ see you tomorrow”

And for the last time she reaches up and leaves a gentle peck on his lips.

She feels his eyes on her as she walks to the kerb and climbs into her car, she doesn’t look back. Her resolve can only hold for so long and the sight of him, shirtless in his doorway, wanting her, well… she’s not superhuman.

So she doesn’t look back.

Doesn’t see him swallow hard.

Doesn’t see him watch her car until she is well out of sight.

Doesn’t seem him place a gentle finger to his lips as he turns and finally shuts the door.

20 minutes later

Lucy: I like it a lot more when we do nothing, together.

Tim: I agree. I actually think I prefer doing most things together with you

Lucy: taxes?

Tim: Lucy

Lucy: getting your teeth cleaned?

Tim: you’re so annoying

Lucy: checking the battery on your smoke alarms

Tim: that’ll teach me for being nice!

Lucy: sorry! I’m sorry, I like being with you too.

Tim: good night Lucy

Lucy: good night tim

10 minutes later

Lucy: jury duty

Tim: GO TO SLEEP!

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

[insert poetic title here]

fun fact: this did not start out as isat fanart

(rambling in tags)

[lgbtlunaverse]

There's a version of the "don't go grocery shopping while hungry" rule specifically for writers where you should never under any circumstances be allowed to touch your draft within 3 hours of reading a really good story. Because sometimes when you read something great your head goes "fuck this is so much better than my stuff I should make that more like THIS instead!" Look at me. That's the devil talking and you should close the document NOW.

[bluerosefox]

"Its a good plan! No-Danny dear listen it is-"

Hey.

A new Dead on Main idea.

But...

With like matchmakers Martha and Lady Gotham.

Like no really.

Lets say Danny finds their lair/ghost home one day while exploring the Infinite Realms, becomes friends with them, goes to them when he need actual parent advice (he loves Jazz and shes great but remember she herself is still a TEEN as well, not only that but she tries to look at things in a more logical standpoint of view because she's studying psychology). He really likes them cause of how nice and caring they are towards him and enjoys spending time with them.

So when Danny gets news that apparently he needs a 'ghost spouse' because he's now the Ghost King and its 'good for the Realms' according to the council of eyeballs. He goes to Martha and Thomas to vent about how dumb it is because he can't ask his friends to fake marry him because they aren't 'ghosty' enough. (They're liminal yes but not enough apparently, they need to have actually died for it to actually count)

Martha (I head-canon she's the brains of the Wayne family, like Thomas is smart no doubt but his smarts fall into medical knowledge) reads between the lines of those wordings and comes up with a plan.

It won't only help their young King but also it may just work out more than that if done right.

She goes to ghost side of Gotham City thats in the Realms and asks to speak with Lady Gotham the city spirit, there she tells the city spirit her plans and what is happening. Lady Gotham listens and grins at the idea.

A few days later, a stressed out Danny (whose had to deal with 'suitors' the eyeballs have been sending him) is in the ghost side of Gotham City meeting Martha for some ecto-coffee and as he's waiting at the cafe/bookstore they were going to meet up at, a portal opens up and Lady Gotham herself fly's over and dumps a stunned Red Freaking Hood at the table.

She books it after that and yells "Its now up to you Martha dear! Have fun!"

Martha appears giggling in a third seat between the two stunned young adults at the table.

[quotefeeling]

You deserve to be with somebody who will drive three hours, just to see you for one.

Guidelines For Finding Someone Worthwhile

[perfectfeelings]

You deserve to be with somebody who will drive three hours, just to see you for one.

Guidelines For Finding Someone Worthwhile

[triaelf9]

JK's creations need to be purged from the public conscious. The next generations need to have never heard of HP.

And I was a person who was Harry's age & literally grew up with the books. She betrayed us, she broke our hearts, & now attacking us.

History should remember her only as a fascist.

And yes, purge includes the fandom.

You need to file those memories away as fond memories. Remember the joy, those are YOUR memories, but close the door on that time. It's over, and it's her own fault.

She betrayed ALL OF US. Don't let her hold anymore control over you. Find another fav.

All I know is that I've never felt more motivated to sit down & write my own novel, & create even more queer comics.

Drown out her lie of a series with better stuff. Flood the market w/ beautiful creations.

This is OUR world. NOT hers.

[thoughtkick]

You deserve to be with somebody who will drive three hours, just to see you for one.

Guidelines For Finding Someone Worthwhile

[a2006love]

if you think of giving up: told in a short story.

"park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me" but it's not about your loved ones in your dr. it's not about shifting. it's not even about an alternate version of life. it's about you. yes, you. the one here and now. the one with the awareness.

it's about the dreams you've left behind, the quiet betrayals, the tiny funerals you didn't even realize you were attending. you tell yourself you don’t need them. you tell yourself you've grown up. that was then, and now it's different. you think about the way you once held them so close, entertaining them all day till you succumb to sleep, and you pretend the memory doesn't make something inside you coil with longing—but then, just as you're lost in those thoughts, you're pulled back into reality. where you're standing at a fair, and a child comes up to you and tugs at your sleeve.

"do you know where my mom is?"

you turn, and there's a little kid, red-eyed, breath hitching in their chest. their face is messy with tears, and their tiny hands are trembling. you kneel, instinctively, lowering to their level, and you soften your voice, in an attempt to make them feel safe.

"you're okay, i'll help you, we'll find her, i promise."

but they only cry harder. their words come out in a way that's impossible to untangle. they're just a kid after all, panic swallows them whole and they can't explain what's going on, where they lost her, what exactly happened that made them lose her, and to top it all off they don't even have the words for it, they only know what it feels like, the way fear spreads itself in their chest, the way the world suddenly seems too big and too loud and too much.

and you—you have no idea what to do. you don't know how to fix this. you don't know the kid, at least, not really. the situation seems bigger than either of you, but you do know that you won't leave them here, that you will take their hand and hold it tight, that you will put them on your shoulders and search through every inch of this place until you find their mom.

except—they stop crying. and they lift their head to look at you, really look at you, with something in their expression, something you can't quite understand, like they know something, and that makes your stomach drop before they even open their mouth.

"you left me here."

the words don't make sense. they confuse you and ring in your head like a thousand church bells, and then the sound disappears. everything else is still moving, the ferris wheel is still spinning, the rainbow lights are still flashing, the music is still playing—but you don't hear any of it anymore.

"what?" you whisper, but you already know the answer.

they squeeze your hand tighter, like they're afraid once they repeat themselves you'll let go and leave again. their lips are shaking, and their voice is much more quieter now, but it cuts through you like a sharp and sudden scream.

"you left me here."

and suddenly, you remember. you remember the way you used to dream. the way you swore you'd never let go of the things that made your heart feel so big, the way you promised yourself you wouldn't become this—this version of you that makes these sensible choices, that trades joy for survival and tells themselves it's just what 'growing up' means, and it's just 'the way life is.'

the kid is still looking at you, waiting for you to say something, do something, anything. and in that moment, you realize—it's not just any kid standing in front of you. it's you. the part of you that you've buried, the part that's still waiting for answers, for someone to care enough. that kid is the version of you you left behind, the one you've been avoiding all this time.

go help them. don't look at me or anyone else. go help them. they asked you. not me, not anybody around. they saw you in this suffocating crowd and felt the safest with you, so they approached you, they wouldn't choose anyone else in this world.

either you take them by the hand, or they're going to keep following you around, pulling at your sleeve, each time harder than the last, sobbing so loudly it bangs in your eardrums, waking you up in the middle of the night with questions you're too tired to answer.

and i want you to think of your choice to ignore them as saying "i promise we'll find her" and then leading them into the fair, distracting them by pointing out other kids playing and shouting "hey! this looks fun!", buying them cotton candy, hoping it'll make them forget about the ache in their chest.

and maybe, for a while, it works. maybe they smile, maybe they even laugh, maybe you convince yourself that they've forgotten what they were crying about.

but the knot is still in their throat. the tears haven't dried. the softness of their mother's hands still lingers on their cheeks. and it won't ever leave.

they'll pretend to forget, but you won't. they'll let go of your hand, but you'll still feel the tightness of their grip, years later, in your happiest moments, in every mirror, in dreams where you catch a glimpse of them just before you wake up to face reality.

and you'll always come back to them. so choose, now, to do something about it, and that choice better be to help them find their mom. (home.)

[figthefruitfaeth]

[runraerun]

just incase anyone needs some extra motivation today uwu

[nondelphic]

no offense because i love this band but cigarette after sex’s discography is proof that if you write the same theme enough times, people will call it iconic instead of repetitive. meanwhile, my manuscript gets side-eyed because i reused the word “glistened” twice in one chapter.

[resqectable]

You deserve to be with somebody who will drive three hours, just to see you for one.

Guidelines For Finding Someone Worthwhile

[soaps-mohawk]

So...there might be a bit of a wait for chapter 50. I have the inspiration but the energy is nonexistent.

[zivazivc]

my brainrot about these two can be measured in liters