#writers block is doing my head in

[itwoodbeprefect]

the great thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things. the terrible thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things

[earthmoonz]

been watching a lot of love island usa lately...

[byanyan]

want to be here....... want to write & interact & shove byan at everyone........ but sitting down to put words together... actually typing things out... is not what my brain wants to do

[slippinninque]

Of course NOW I have the worst writers block

Like I have notes up on notes that just needs to be typed up but then....poof!

Nothing makes sense and everything reads funny (and not in a good way lol)

Does anyone have any tips for getting out of your own way when writing or enjoying a hobby?

No pressure tags: @megamindsecretlair @nerdieforpedro @ellethespaceunicorn @miyuhpapayuh (and literally anyone/everyone else lol)

[cecropiacrown]

Hey y'all! I wanted to give a heads up that this week's chapter of Distance Makes the Heart So Fucking Annoyed is probably going to be posted tomorrow (July 5th) rather than today.

Thanks for your patience and understanding! 🩷

[yzafre]

This post sponsored by the youtube vid title I saw referring to Aqua as "mom" my teeth are set on edge and I'm eying it suspiciously because I DON'T trust it. I've seen that "oh, she's the mom-friend and the only one with her life together, just going around picking up the boys' messes" opinion too many times, I am hissing warily.

That's way too simplified, stop reducing her depth, she's much more complicated and also even inside the mom-energy she admittedly has, it's like. Hm.

She does have some mom-energy (affectionate) but I think she also has mom-energy (derogatory). Y'know?

[maldito-arbol]

Fun fact guys. I told my discord this but to my small pool of tumblr-only followers, I have long completed CMTO chapter 9.

I just haven’t written chapter 8

[disdaidal]

Two days ago, complains that she can't get anything written down, despite having multiple headcanons and fic ideas.

This afternoon (or well, yesterday here) she starts randomly going through different writing prompts on a writing blog and miraculously ends up finding a prompt that fuels the fire and inspires to start writing.

Tells herself firmly: don't stress it, it can be just a short piece, even a drabble. Doesn't need to be longer than that.

The situation right now: has already written 8 pages (3149 words) of making out, eventually leading to smut if the gods are on her side and the stars are aligned just right (fingers crossed).

The bottom line: doesn't know how to write short stuff, still. Rambling on and on seems to be the thing she keeps getting tangled into. But oh well, writing's still sailing smoothly and I intend to finish it (even if it takes me all night, which it just might). But I don't trust my short attention span to last long enough to continue it again tomorrow, so... sacrifices must be made.

[sunnyxjarrus]

I haven’t decided who I want as my other two perspectives or at least one more (I am thinks main character 2’s brother and best friend or maybe his sister even [I can’t pass the bechdel test if I don’t have a female perspective] or maybe just a side character that I haven’t even thought of yet, I don’t know[HELP ME!] But it’s okay)

[welcomefortune]

I’m sorry but the “you need to write fic that’s unproblematic so kids who read it don’t think Problematic Thing is okay” holds a lot less weight for me when someone writes for ASOIAF than when someone writes for children’s media. When I write for ASOIAF/GOT/HOTD I’m assuming that whoever is reading it has A. read/watched the source material and B. is an adult who can think critically. 11 year olds should not be reading ASOIAF fic period they are too young to engage with the material and I don’t think it’s on fic writers/fan artists to ensure their works are appropriate for young children if they are creating content in mostly adult spaces for adult media. I think if you write for Sofia the First and are asking ppl on Roblox to read what you wrote then yeah I do think you should be more careful in what you create because that’s media intended for young children in a space that’s dominated by kids. But if you don’t have the maturity to handle dark topics I don’t know how you can handle ASOIAF to begin with bc GRRM delves into darker material than 99% of fics and fanart I’ve seen.

[beetlejuce]

Lore about me: I write songs, ever since I was a kid. Lately I’ve been struck with the biggest writer’s block and the past 5+ months have either been revisiting old shit I’ve written or doing nothing at all artistically.

I have written an entire song (lyrics and just getting to ideas of instrumentation) today though, so I think I’ve still got it, just gotta settle back into it… progress?

[babacontainsmultitudes]

“Do you like to be kissed?”

…

"Kissed where?"

(Or, Cassandra tries to learn a bit more about her best friend Sparrow.)

-----------------------------------

Would we still be besties if I took my Sparrow and Cassandra barbies and made them smooch? Would we still be besties if I told you all about it?

Yeah, yeah I’m shy as all hell sharing this but I wrote about our lovely little crack (friend)ship. Honestly y’all writing fanfiction is still very new to me period but most especially this is the first time I try writing... this kind of scene so please have mercy but also if you read it I’d love you forever (or at least for a while).

[mejomonster]

Writing blocks are demons. I just read some advice that was more or less "its not that you cant write, its that your GOAL of Write Well is in conflict with your FEAR you will write badly, so if you change your Goal to write badly/write shitty, you will overcome writer's block"

Contemplating this

[talksosweet]

sometimes i'm like wow i'd love to make a side blog but then i remember that i literally don't do anything on this app other than yap and make a mb sometimes if i feel like it???? so there's acc no point it's not like i write or anything so

[dirtbra1n]

there’s a word for it. a name. for the people who take care of corpses before a funeral. hanzawa masato doesn’t remember it right now, though, because right now he’s up in the midnight hours, lying flat on the couch in the living room. too warm. he doesn’t care to remember it, the name.

it’s way, way too warm.

dying used to be simpler than this. there was no pavement, there were no buildings, there were no faceless people.

cold, though. there was cold.

the water wasn’t really flowing, too shallow, he was slowing it down, but his blood was. staining the ice.

it was gross.

he couldn’t stretch out his legs, couldn’t reach his arms out over his head. his fingers were cold and useless and deadened, and slow. the air he was struggling to breathe was pushing in and flowing out of his lungs through the puncture wound in his chest. so slow.

he’s been there before. he’s here now.

sitting stiff in the water, soaked to the bone, dying in isolation. bleeding out, masato thinks he’s alive. suffocating, he’s convinced he won’t be for much longer.

he’s not sure he’s anywhere.

dying used to be so easy.

instead of waiting until he couldn’t stand to look at himself anymore, kneeling until his head went under and waiting it out, probably getting swept away by the current until he crashed downstream—he wouldn’t know, he never lived to see that part—instead of that—

he’s wading around a little lost. he’s bleeding. the ghosts only look at him when they know it’ll sting worst, long shadows cast over the water, malformed specters dancing in mockery of him. he thinks his feet are getting a little worse than sliced up by jagged hateful rocks out of sight. that’s depressingly the least of his worries. it’s being impaled by the moon in a loop of time that fucking hates him. but he’s already bleeding. he’s a little surprised that he’s still got blood to bleed.

instead of releasing what could have become a burden, it’s him standing, helplessly, in the river, night after night after night. because it’s nighttime now. it keeps being nighttime.

it’s the kind of thing you’d almost expect to be a relief.

“hanzawa senpai.”

masato turns his head, creaky like a wooden doll. “…tashiro-kun.”

kimono-clad, he offers a hand. “you’re not face first in muck this time.”

masato doesn’t take it. a sharp smile curves his cheeks, not insincere. “thank you. ‘this time?”

tashiro smiles sheepishly down at him. squints. “did you die?”

“do I look dead?”

it’s hard to see from the water, but masato knows that tashiro’s shifted his eyes. saw it in the back of his mind, recorded on crackly film. he says, instead of answering, “I’ve got bandages.”

masato wishes he had something to rest his elbows on, to brace himself on. it doesn’t feel right playing his games standing upright, his hands in his sleeves instead of holding his head on his shoulders. “ta-shi-ro-kuuun, what do you think I need those for?” masato knows what.

tashiro replies anyway, drily from up on uneven paving, “hanzawa senpai, you’re bleeding. you need blood. to survive.”

“tashiro-kun, did I die?”

things are splintering a little. crackly film.

a web of cracks splitting tashiro’s composure, his voice shaking, “why did you?”

that wasn’t what masato asked.

—

“hanzawa senpai.”

“…”

“senpai.”

“…tashiro-kun.”

“you’re not face first in muck this time.”

the smile’s carving itself in, muscle memory. masato’s not going to ask what he meant by this time. “thank you.”

“did you die?”

“do I look dead?”

in the old school projector film behind his eyelids, the flickering doesn’t feel out of place. “I’ve got bandages.”

“ta-shi-ro-kuuun, what do you think I need those for?” masato’s always known what.

“hanzawa senpai, you’re bleeding. you need blood. to survive.”

“tashiro-kun, did I die?”

the shadows cast by a lantern hidden just behind tashiro make his shoulders look broad. masato swallows down a laugh, but he’s not sure what’s funny. “don’t be shallow, senpai, looks aren’t everything.”

the laugh comes out anyway. he manages, “I feel dead, forget the looks.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

masato takes his turn to squint. they weren’t taking turns. it doesn’t matter. he doesn’t know if he still feels like laughing. he knows for sure that he can’t think of anything to say.

it’s just as well. tashiro isn’t having the same problem. “I think you should just, I don’t know. care about yourself more.”

masato swallows. his lips press into a chagrined line. “I don’t not care,” he says.

tashiro looks right through him. his eyes are like headlights.

he doesn’t actually need to say it, and masato can tell that he almost doesn’t, but maybe tashiro thought he needed to hear it out loud, feel it taking up space. maybe he was right.

“your caring sucks, senpai. it killed you.”

masato doesn’t want to follow that thread. “how many times have you been here, tashiro-kun?”

tashiro doesn’t buy into it. his demeanor is at once solemn and jarringly pleading, “senpai, won’t you live for once?”

masato means to say it like a joke, because it is one, but by accident the words, “how could I begin to deny you,” are dropping off his tongue, he doesn’t even know why, he doesn’t know why he said that, and no amount of exaggerated irreverence can hide from tashiro—eyes like cleavers, more like—the characters slipping into the water.

the ripples aren’t all that big, but they’re big enough.

like when your head aches, or the gash in your chest is losing you too much blood, or the water is tugging itself a little too close to that gash to be comfortable. something like that. something like that. it’s enough.

he doesn’t think he’s making any sense. it’s just too warm.

“maa-kun,” his older brother’s crooning, pushing his damp bangs off his forehead with cold fingers, “I think you’re sick.”

masato blinks away what he hopes is sweat. “gross.”

“not gross, worrying. sit up please.”

“I’ll throw up.”

“you won’t.”

“you’re right, I won’t.”

he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, on the couch that he’s sweating all over, and he’s watching a fan across the room spin and it’s nauseating and he stops looking at it. he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, by his older brother, because his mom’s out of town visiting her sister. he’s getting fussed over in the middle of the night, feeling a little out of his body. feeling a little—not at all—a lot like a little kid again. feeling sick, and pathetic.

he goes into the bathroom, wobbly and upset and over-warm, and he throws up.

—

reality’s tearing itself up, his dreams are eating it up, he’s falling apart and melting at the seams, he sits in almost-too-cold water until he thinks he’s gonna throw up again.

put him on ice, already, the sooner the funeral the sooner he can get some fucking rest.

his older brother’s sitting against the door frame, slipping in and out of consciousness. he murmurs, reaching forward to pet his hair, “‘s it too cold?”

masato doesn’t think it’s sweat. “it’s okay.”

—

it wouldn’t have been a very good joke, even if it’d come out right.

masato thinks he just choked around, “I want to. I want to.”

[always-a-joyful-note]

may I also bring this contribution as you wander down the enstars rabbit hole (it's enstars characters and their supposed crimes)

OP I appreciate you so much, but I fear that you are trying to kill me? Just -

Just a few questions.....

- Why are Switch and the seniors of Ryuseitai and Wataru??? on kidnapping?? (wait, did he kidnap Hokuto is that it?) - Wait, what did Tetora and Sora DO? - Midori's in attempted murder?????? WHY??? - What's with forgery?? Why's that on there? Why am I questioning forgery when sexual harassment and murder are RIGHT there??? - Yeah, I still can't believe there's a literal idol duo who is also a mob group.... - "tried to break the windows with an iron pipe" what - of course Hokuto has the ultra specific one (I love him so much. Rich airhead princess to me, so far anyway). - Bullying for Subaru NO what have you DONE starshine boy??? - and at this point I've given up on getting mentally tortured by the others

I am eternally grateful for this list. Why did it have to exist? OP, come back here and let's just talk - actually. No, I desperately want to sit down with the writers and ask what they've experienced to do this.