Heart Full, Notebook Empty

Just trying to get some words onto the page.

[notahorseindisguise]

"its a living" <- guy who has a job it hates

"its'a living!' <- dr mario frankenstein

[sassycolortheorist101-blog]

some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs

* body language masterlist

* a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

* a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

* 550 words to say instead of fuckin said

* 638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

* some more body language help

(hope this helps some ppl)

[darklove9314-blog]

Saving these for when I get a case of writers block.

[heart-full-notebook-empty]

Just called to say hello

A study was published a few weeks ago detailing the dangers of exposing children under the age of two to screens, saying it leads to serious developmental issues that permanently damage the brain. I lost my shit. What have I done? I thought to myself. How have I hurt my three-year-old so foundationally? How do I correct it now? How do I protect my newborn?

That day, my sister, travelling through Brazil, video called, asking to see her two-month-old nephew. “No,” I practically yelled at her, yanking the phone away from him as if his chubby, flailing hands were going to pull away from where they banged against my breast and instead grab the phone with ill intent to chat away and make his brain rot before my eyes.

She pouted. “Let me see my chunky little nephew,” she whined. I had to placate her. She may be 22, but she’s my first baby, if anything, and it’s too late when it comes to screen time, her brain is already fried by that metric. I turned the phone towards him, holding my arm comically aloft as though the distance from the screen will protect him from the heebie-jeebies mentioned so succinctly in the study I had barely rifled through.

“He’s too far away,” she complained again, holding the phone barely an inch from her nose, her mouth entirely off camera. The baby stared at me plainly, as though I owe him an explanation for this disruption, and I hesitantly inched the phone closer. He peered at it and I immediately yanked it down and out of sight.

“If he sees the screen, it’ll hurt his cute little brain,” I told her, looking down at the phone at an angle which suggested I had entirely no neck and multiple chins.

“But if he doesn’t see me, he’ll forget what I look like,” she countered.

“How well-developed is their memory at two months old, anyway?”

“It’s good enough.”

I huffed, bringing the phone up again. She cooed and babbled at him, and he giggled. Fine, I thought, bringing the phone closer to him again.

[writingdose]

genuine writers getting wrongly accused of using ai because of witch hunt and proper grammar/structure in their works must be what being a woman in the 1600s who is wrongly accused of being a witch because she can read and is intelligent feels like

[theunfortunate-author]

my daily affirmation as an author

[writingdose]

being a writer is fun

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Prompt #1310

"I'm going to ask you how you are and I would like you to answer me honestly."

[heart-full-notebook-empty]

Like I can barely breathe with undefinable feeling. Like I could scream to the heavens, only I know not what of. Like my chest aches with the expansion of my heart, but the content is unknown to me. Like I could fill page upon page if only I knew the words. Like a god of material sat upon my chest, demanding that I procure. Like I am both empty and full, dull and overwhelmed. Like I know nothing but to create, yet have nothing to produce. Like my mind and my soul are detached, never truly touching and forming, together, some semblance of coherency.

"I'm doing alright. You?"

[bythelynx]

writing slow burn: I know exactly what every glance means. I put it there.

living slow burn: WHAT DID THAT LOOK MEAN? WHAT WAS THAT TOUCH??

maybe that's what makes it interesting though...

[schmergo]

Whenever I tell people that I dream of playing as many versions of Cinderella’s stepsisters as possible, I have to mention the mildly deranged illegal production of Cinderella I was in when I was 12.

I used to go to this small drama camp as a kid that was entirely run by one nice lady, I believe named Carol. We would put on abridged minimalist versions of popular musicals at a local church with only one week of rehearsal. These weren’t licensable junior versions. Carol created them herself.

She wrote the scripts to include the major plot highlights and famous lines from the various musicals and she arranged and accompanied all of the songs on the piano herself. We did Annie, Mary Poppins, the Wizard of Oz, and, the year before I came, Peter Pan. These shows were definitely illegal, but they were so small that nobody really noticed, and they were a ton of fun. The camp was also extremely affordable, so nobody was getting rich off of it.

But Cinderella, my final production with them, was next-level. When I arrived for the first day of camp, I was curious to see if it would be the Disney version or the Rodgers and Hammerstein version.

It was both. And neither.

Carol somehow wrote an almost entirely original book for Cinderella that used the best songs from both the Disney and R&H versions. That meant that I, as a stepsister, got to sing the “Stepsisters’ Lament,” a peak song if you ask me, but adorable little kids playing mice also got to sing “Cinderelly, Cinderelly.”

The one thing about combining both versions is perhaps an overemphasis on the Fairy Godmother, because the songs “Bibbidy Bobbity Boo” and “Impossible” are both no-brainers to include. But somehow, things worked out perfectly there, too, by splitting the role.

See, we didn’t just have a Fairy Godmother.

We also had a Fairy Godfather.

I was 12, so I didn’t quite get the joke, but as an adult, I’m obsessed with the implication that Cinderella got her dress, slippers, and carriage through some kind of vague affiliation with the mafia.

[firthbetterorfirthworse]

"Alright, I've... acquired a carriage, but only until 1am or we're gonna have a situation on our hands. So I absolutely need it back in my hands by midnight so the feds don't get involved."

"Honey I can't tell Cinderella that!"

"Tell her it'll turn into a pumpkin or something, not my problem. That's your part of the job. I get the things, you make them work. Just get it back to me by midnight, capisce?"

[the-punforgiven]

I'm just saying, if you're going to worldbuild magic being a "raw, primal force, akin to and interweaving with nature itself" you gotta explain to me why animals don't use it

[the-punforgiven]

I know the normal answer is "they just aren't smart enough for it" but idk I've seen enough media where a character uses a spell in a moment of brain-off panic ilI feel like animals could probably stumble into a spell or two like, accidentally

[the-punforgiven]

Also how funny would it be to see a completely normal regular bear cast magic missile outta nowhere

[the-punforgiven]

Also there is no way ravens wouldn't figure out spells, tbh

They're smart fuckin birds, I believe in them

Either through observing or just figuring shit out ravens could 100% learn how to cast spells I'm sure of it

[the-punforgiven]

Dogs can also cast Magic Missile but every time they do the projectile is shaped like a bone or a stick and they chase after it

[rathayibacter]

group of wizards who ask this in-universe, and after extensive study learn to their surprise that animals are casting spells all the time, just that their magic is so fundamental as to be unrecognizable to humans. turns out the only reason acorns grow on trees is because squirrels keep wishing for them.

[brainstreams]

[heart-full-notebook-empty]

Writing clichés that should definitely be brought back:

Old men in lighthouses

Sad painters

Hidden messages using the first letter of each line

Circus lion POVs

A writer crumbling each page as it comes out of the typewriter

A lone figure walking down an empty road (bonus points if the road diverges)

A mystery character standing under a lamppost (rain optional)

Waitress at a shoddy diner POV

Lone flower POV

[luna-azzurra]

Enemies to lovers but actually unhinged!!!

⟢ "I don't like you." - "You baked me cookies." - "They're poison cookies." - "They're snickerdoodles." - "Poison snickerdoodles." - "You've had four." - "Building immunity."

⟢ "Stop being nice to me, I have a reputation."

⟢ "I've added you to my list." - "Of?" - "People I dislike." - "Am I top five." - "Top three." - "Honestly where I want to be."

⟢ "You saved my life." - "Don't make it weird." - "You literally jumped in front of a—" - "Don't. Make it. Weird."

⟢ "I brought you medicine." - "Why." - "Because you're sick." - "Let me be sick in peace." - "You were groaning loud enough for the whole building to hear." - "That's called suffering with flair." - "Take the medicine." - "Fine. This changes nothing." - "Obviously." - "I still don't like you." - "Mhm." - "Thank you." - "Don't mention it. Literally ever."

⟢ "You laughed at my joke." - "I did not." - "You did, I heard it." - "That was a cough." - "For three seconds?" - "I have a long cough." - "You're the worst liar I've ever met." - "I hate you." - "You literally just laughed again." - "COUGH."

⟢ "We should kiss just to see if it would be as annoying as everything else about you." - "That's the worst proposition I've ever heard." - "Is that a no." - "It's an I'll think about it." - "...okay." - "Okay." - "So." - "So." - "This is still not me liking you." - "Obviously." - "Just to be clear." - "Crystal." - "Okay." - "Yeah." - "Well." - "Yeah."

⟢ "Stop looking at me like that." - "Like what." - "Like you've figured something out." - "I have figured something out." - "Well stop."

⟢ "My nemesis brought me coffee." - "I'm not your nemesis." - "My nemesis knows my exact order." - "That's called paying attention." - "To your nemesis." - "To someone extremely irritating who I'm forced to spend time with." - "You asked to be partnered with me." - "The point still stands."

⟢ "I don't want to like you." - "How's that going." - "Terribly. You?" - "About the same honestly." - "Great." - "Yeah." - "This is a disaster." - "Complete catastrophe." - "So what do we do." - "I have absolutely no idea." - "Cool cool cool."

⟢ "You're the most annoying person alive." - "Top five things you've said that sounded like I love you."

⟢ "I made you food." - "I'm not eating that." - "Why not." - "Because last week you said you wanted me dead." - "I say a lot of things. I made you soup." - "...is it good." - "Obviously it's good, I made it." - "Fine. This is a ceasefire not a treaty." - "Eat the soup." - "I'm eating it, calm down."

⟢ "Why do you always have to be right." - "I don't always have to be." - "And yet." - "It's a gift really." - "It's incredibly annoying is what it is." - "You're smiling." - "I'm grimacing." - "Adorably." - "Take that back." - "Nope."

⟢ "You remembered my birthday." - "I remember lots of things." - "You got me a cake." - "Cakes are normal." - "It's my favorite flavor." - "I pay attention." - "To me specifically." - "To lots of people." - "Name one other person whose birthday you remembered this year." - "..." - "That's what I thought." - "This proves nothing." - "It proves everything and you know it."

⟢ "I think about you a lot." - "In a I want to destroy you way?" - "Started that way." - "And now." - "Less destroy, more—I don't know. Different." - "Different." - "Yeah." - "That's terrifying." - "I know." - "I also think about you." - "Yeah?" - "Started the same way." - "And now." - "Also different." - "Huh." - "Yeah." - "So." - "So."

[heart-full-notebook-empty]

I tattooed the words "keep the truth" across the back of my elbow the first day of my studies in government and diplomacy.

On Monday afternoon, the Citizenship and Westernization professor asked, "Can anyone tell me what ethnic cleansing is?"

A student, hand noteably not in the air, called out from the second row, not far below me in the lecture hall, "Killing a bunch of people?" His pitch rose at the end, as though it were a question, as though the people may still be alive, as though they may not be people.

His outburst shoved the corners of my lips down and I scratched the bandage on the back of my elbow while lifting the hand attached to it, as though my right hand held my left aloft.

The professor nodded at me, and lowering both hands, I said, "forcing an entire people out of their homes in the same area."

He moved on without another glance to me.

On Wednesday morning, the Middle East Studies professor told us that so-and-so group legally and morally owed reparations to this-and-that peoples. "They must give back at least some of what was taken from this-and-that's forefathers," he stated.

I itched the back of my left arm and the boy two seats to my left lifted his hand. "But so-and-so are not the same people," he argued. "Why should they pay for their ancestors' mistakes? Their homes and properties at this point have been in their families for at least two generations." His name was Zahir. I lent him a pen on Tuesday that now sat on his empty notebook. I scratched above my elbow some more and stared irritably at his desk.

The professor's nose twitched as though he smelled something foul. As though Zahir had done something disgusting. As though he was occupying one seat too many in the classroom. The professor said nothing; simply turned to the Smart Board and wrote in his crooked penmanship, "colonization."

On Saturday, I went to have dinner in the cafeteria with Salam and Shlomit. Our usual table was taken by some paper-thin women the color of chalk in checkered scarves. They didn't notice us; they were too busy glaring daggers at a gay couple wearing kippahs who were making their retreat from the dining hall. As I walked by, scratching my arm, the couple spoke to the security guard at the entrance, and I heard a whispered "that's them" as they pointed at the women in our seats.

Shlomit and Salam didn't seem to notice. They sat down at the other end of the room and talked about Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce's wedding. They laughed at the venue and fawned at her dress. And though I could have convinced them to argue over Mamdani's handling of the event, there just wasn't any point. So I watched them talk. And I smiled. And my tattoo healed.

[formerlyluckymanticore]

Reblog if you will never. Ever. Use AI in your writing.

[writing-prompt-s]

The dragon grins wide. “You’ve come to slay me? I see no sword, no bow and I sense no magic.” You begin stretching and clench your fists. “Correct. My body is all I need.”

[heart-full-notebook-empty]

And I broke out into the absolute raddest breakdance so mind-blowingly sick, the dragon imploded on the spot.

[writingdose]