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I spent all that time looking for you. Hundreds of years. I never believed you were truly gone, even though I was the one who killed you. The one who'd separated the head from the body, watched the life drain from your eyes, felt your very essence leak out into the nether, or wherever essence goes when it's no longer tethered to our bodies.

Long after everyone else had celebrated your demise, long after the wounds you'd caused had healed over, long after everyone we once knew intimately had forgotten about you, I still sat here waiting.

All for this day. This moment. And the best that you can say.... is who am I?

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Have I ever considered that, maybe, being a writer isn't my purpose? I just up and decided 16 years ago, that I liked writing, enjoyed it, and proceeded to base 16 years of my life fumbling through it. Telling myself that the best authors didn't even get published until their 30s, telling myself I have time, telling myself that the ideas would come. Adding more... and more... and more, until the idea of who I could become was more detailed than the actual plan.

What if I'm not even meant to do this? Could that be why I'm so depressed all the time?

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daydreaming about writing: 🥰😍🥹❤️😊🌺✨😘

the act of actually writing: 😭😰😵‍💫😭😰😭☹️😖

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When I first started writing, it wasn't so much a choice, as it was a whim. I don't really remember exactly "when", but if I had to guess, it was this old website named boardofwisdom

They used to post quotes and poetry on there, a few jokes, and I'd spend days just reading through everything. And at some point, I decided I'd post some things. Some jokes I found in a joke book I used to have, at first.

There was a small community of people where you could talk with others, and I met some people there. A few of them were poetry writers, and at some point, I think I was like "hey, I'd like to try that". And so I started just... writing shit. I don't think the website exists anymore, thankfully, because I was a HORRIBLE writer. But I think writing is something you can always improve on. And those were my humble beginnings.

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Alright.

I've been procrastinating on writing my book for a long time now, and I really want to finish it. I've only got 35 pages, so I need to finish because I have people wanting to read it right now.

10 notes and I'll finish Chapter 5

20 notes and I'll write Chapter 6

30 notes and I'll finish my previously mentioned character profiles. All of them.

40 notes and I'll write Chapters 7-10

50 notes and I'll finish the book.

I really don't expect this to go far, but If you want to read the book so far, I'll link the Wattpad page below. No pressure to read, just if you're interested it would mean a whole lot to me. Have fun!

Love Lils <3

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I probably put way too much thought into it but I do enjoy making a more in depth story rather than winging it. I like to actually think about the worldbuilding, make sure things actually connect and make sense. I am a big history nerd and I feel like it's the closest I can get to writing my own history.

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Always the writer, never the reader.

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I kind of want to go on a... Technology cleanse? Like no TV, no videogames, no browsing social media. I'm doing all these things and I'm not really happy, you know?

But, especially, I just really want to focus on my writing. On finding my muse, my inspiration. On reclaiming my love for it back.

Writing used to make me so much happier. It didn't feel like such a chore. It was a hobby, and I think at some point, it stopped being a hobby, and started being what I wanted to be known for. And I need to get back to the basics, of just writing to write, instead of writing to be great, because only then can I really just... Write, unimpeded by these still thoughts of things needing to be perfect, and me needing to be perfect.

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I need to find new beta readers. Or just someone to act as a sounding board. I'm starting to realize that my best work comes when I have someone I can just bounce these ideas off of, just to get them out.

I feel too distracted, otherwise, because I just can't focus on the here and now. I'm always looking towards the future, trying to think 3 books from now, instead of looking at the chapter in writing at the moment.

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Some of my writer’s block cures:

Handwrite. (If you already are, write in a different coloured pen.)

Write outside or at a different location.

Read.

Look up some writing prompts.

Take a break. Do something different. Comeback to it later.

Write something else. (A different WIP, a poem, a quick short story, etc.)

Find inspiring writing music playlists on YouTube. (Themed music, POV playlists, ambient music, etc.)

Do some character or story prompts/questions to get a better idea of who or what you’re writing.

Word sprints. Set a timer and write as much as you can. Not a lot of time to overthink things.

Set your own goals and deadlines.

Write another scene from your WIP. (You don’t have to write in order.) Write a scene you want to write, or the ending. (You can change it or scrap it if it doesn’t fit into your story later.)

Write a scene for your WIP that you will never post/add to your story. A prologue, a different P.O.V., how your characters would react in a situation that’s not in your story, a flashback, etc.

Write down a bunch of ideas. Things that could happen, thing that will never happen, good things, bad things.

Change the weather (in the story of course.)

Feel free to add your own.

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I think that something I want to address with one of my MCs is the bond between a mother and child. His conflict could be the need to keep that secret from the one person he trusts most, in order to keep her safe. But to do that, he needs to create distance.

And so he focuses on his work, his duties as an Executor. And the presence of a surrogate "Mother Figure". His first mission sets up sequels. But his connection with ***** reveals something about familial bonds that is often forgotten. We are oftentimes unable to choose the people we are related to; so how can we be sure that those people have our best interests at heart? (???)

Writing him as a "Mother's Boy", who can no longer get that attention from his actual Mother, would help, especially, with foreshadowing.

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The hardest part about heartbreak, about betrayal, is that it completely warps one's perspective on life. It makes you distrustful, paranoid, quick to jump to conclusions. And at some point, it almost feels like a rite of passage.

I feel like we're put on this planet to torture each other, to make the simple act of living as agonizing as possible, to the point that we begin to question if something like "love" could even exist within this space.

And yet, despite all that, I still believe.

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