rereading my own writing is just a constant fluctuation between "damn, girl, you wrote this? (affectionate)" and "damn, girl, you wrote this? (derogatory)"
the beauty of writing is that creativity can’t be forced. inspiration cannot be synthesized from the planned and orderly. if you can’t write, maybe your mind needs a fucking break.
When I’m writing, I always feel stressed when I’m trying to put symbolism in one of my stores. I never know if I’m doing it right, and I never know which objects to give meaning. Any object can be a symbol, but here’s a big ol list of some classic symbols to use in literature if you ever get stuck:
Animals
Dove - Peace
Lion - Courage/Strength
Bird - Freedom
Raven - Trickster
Crow - Bad Omens, but Can Be Sacred in Some Cultures
Bat - Guardian of Night, Illusion
Spider - Creativity, Intelligence
Wolf/Fox - Loyalty, Intelligence, Playfulness
Cat - Balance, Independence, Curiosity
Horse - Determination
Deer (Doe) - Innocence, Grace
Butterfly - Transformation, Rebirth
Swan - Divinity, Power of Self
Panda - Gentle Strength, Luck
Rabbit - Fear, Caution, Fertility
Weather
Rain - Not Sadness, New Opportunity, Cover of Darkness (shelter)
Mask (dependent on context) - Cover of Secrecy, Safety in Anonymity
Animal Souvenirs (ex. boar’s head on stake) - Defiance Against Nature
Colors
Red - Passion, Impulsivity, Anger
Orange - Happiness, Enthusiasm
Yellow - Joy, Innocence, Peace
Green - Growth, Harmony
Blue - Stability, Loyalty, Intelligence
Purple - Royalty, New Strength and Leadership
Black - Mystery, Death, Quiet Solitude
White - Divinity, Cruel Strength, Lack of Empathy
How to Use Them
1. Be sure that the symbols are recurrent. The most effective way to let your reader know that this is, in fact, a symbol is to constantly remind them that your symbol is present
2. Use as directed. If a scene doesn’t require the use of a certain symbol, then don’t add it. For example, don’t insert characters who are about to be cleansed from their past and be reborn into better people in a scene set with a stormy atmosphere.
3. Explain, but don’t hold hands. Once the reader is clear that a symbol has been laid out and is present in your story, be sure that they understand exactly what the symbol is there to do. Of course, leave much of it up to interpretation, but don’t have its use be so loose that it’s difficult to pinpoint.
I hope this helped, and to anyone who might use this, good luck, happy writing!
this tag is by, @zmlorenz!, but the found the tag on @avakrahn's page, (go check them both out, they both are wonderful!) I had so much fun doing this :)
the words you need to find are hurt, dawn, mirror, and lonely. I'm going to use my fantasy novel Divine Blood and my contemporary novel (Little) Peace Offerings
Hurt
A little context on what is going on here River and Dove(who uses they/he pronouns) both find a well and are trying to figure out if it leads towards Volaris/the capital of the Angelic and Demonic realm
“Maybe it’s just me, but I do know that Alice fell through the rabbit hole. She didn’t fly or wave a wand to get there. And look,” River roves around the clearing, her foot shuffling in a tight circle, moving away leaves to reveal a spiral of incantations that lead towards the well. “it’s a incantation for transportation.” River murmurs, reading the etching words.
Dove hesitates, still looking unconvinced.
“Even if I get hurt I know that I won’t have too much trouble.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Cause you’ll come down to save me.”
Dawn
God, this was hard to find! Apparently I hate beautiful images that have to do with the sun, because I couldn't find any sentence that had the word 'dawn' or 'sunset' in it. This is a little excerpt from (Little) Peace Offerings. it's pretty self explanatory but, I enjoyed it.
It was dawn when Momma swiped the covers off of me
smacked my rump
telling me to get up and move.
we have things to do,
places to be
she said, when I struggled
reaching for the covers
I told Momma how unfair this was
Momma knows best, she had said
but that was after she patted my puffed hair
smoothing the winded edges towards her
Mirror Glassy
Again SO hard to find! since I couldn't find mirror, so I ended up being torn between 'glass', and 'looking glass,' but this is a little piece from (Little) Peace Offerings, of the MC walking down a local beach.
my feet bite the water of the sea below
it is not a bluebird day, as Momma would call it
the clouds hang with a sludging gait.
the water is glassy,
studsy with sea-foam,
in high tide the waves would crash against us, wetting our clothes
but we wouldn’t care much
it was more the beauty of the moment that would capture our attention
Lonely Alone
this is a long excerpt, but it makes more sense all together. SO this is also from my fantasy novel Divine Blood. After Dove's and River's debate, River decides to take the plunge and leaves Dove alone on earth (oh no, that's terrible! poor dove!) Yeah so this is him possessing the newfound information that he has gathered about the leaders of his exorcist camp, as well Rivers betrayal, so that's what's happening here.
Tears sting his eyes as they cream their fingers against the stone. They should just leave, leave her there and never look back, she did the same with them, why should they be any different?
“Left alone huh?”
Dove flinches, hands shaking as they turn to the roaming figure who stalks behind them.
“Camp leader Grey.”
The old camp leader, who had stood in this very spot moments ago stares at Dove, his glazed eyes pointed towards the well.
“‘Audentes fortuna iuvat’ ‘fortune favors the bold.’” The clan leader hesitates, stepping towards the well, puckered fingers tracing the marble structure. His fingers stop at a green tinted stone that has a snaking vine coiled around it, he dislodges it from the well with ease, inspecting it.
“Do you know why the angels used Latin?” The camp leader sighs, brushing off the marble block, examining it further.
Dove stares at the clan leader wearily, tears pecking their eyes. “You lied to us,”
Camp leader Grey’s eyes poke to Dove who stands a good meter away from him, disgust etching his face as they watch the wrinkled man. “Me neither.”
Heyo, another musing at 9:00am at night, :) anyways I'll put the post here so that you guys can answer the questions on your own.
Red: What type of writer’s block do you experience the most?
Procrastination (lol, is that even writers block or me being lazy?), or loss of inspiration or passion for the project
White: Are you a supporter/lover of fanfiction?
Sure, I've tried to write my own fanfiction, but never could get farther than 1000 words (guess it's just not my thing), but I love reading anyone else's about my favorite series :)
Black: Would you want to live in one of the fictional worlds you’ve created?
Nope, not one bit. (Well, maybe in Little Peace Offerings but only to see the romance between my characters) I would either die in one of my worlds or get murdered by my favorite characters (is this just me or do I feel like my characters would either 1)kill me or 2)dominate the world with me)
Setting: Earth, the fictional land named: the Upper World
POV: 3rd person, present tense
Current Word Count: 12,730 (yayyy!)
About: River Wymond and her sibling Dove Wymond, are stuck on Earth. They are angels; powerful beings who (in the Upper World) belong to different clans who house multiple affinities to elements.
After magical encounter, and a chance of escaping the half blood camp they have resided in for most of there lives, River leaves her sibling alone in Middle Earth. Their sibling soon follows, but they soon find themselves to be separated in the Upper World.
Once the Upper World held peace and balance, now it holds holds a war hungry and greedy angles who will stop at nothing to rule. The siblings soon find that to survive they must fulfill their new purposes as pawns in the everlasting war. River, and Dove begin to fight and kil for their clans.
But as their training increases, and their goals intertwine they realize that to win this battle, they must fight and kill each other to finally end the war and become the conquerors of their own legends for years to come.
after a series of very short and sparse camp nano updates for this project, i decided to write a full-length update, with more detail about what i've written so far and what the process has been like. i'll also put all the excerpts i shared in the mini updates in this one, because this is just where im dumping everything i guess?
also be warned that this update is going to be very, very long.
current wordcount: 10,101
playlist: here
like i said in the last camp update, this book was torture to write for about three weeks, then suddenly, when i reached chapter 3, it turned around and has been fun since then! i've had really bad writers block since february and it was starting to feel like writing would never be fun again, then asher and ezra appeared and solved all my problems <3
excerpts & taglist under the cut.
CHAPTER 1: WILDFLOWERS
wildflowers is the first vignette, which follows asher walking through a field at dawn after escaping the cult a few hours before. asher is quite stunned because! what!!
also, writing opening scenes that take place at night is a part of my brand now.
i wrote this entire vignette in one sitting, which is very uncommon for me because i write extremely slow. usually the opening scene is very hard, but this was quite easy.
the *working* first paragraph:
Dawn cusps the valley and Asher is free. It’s liberating, the silence, the emptiness. No houses column the edges of his vision, no steeple lances the sky. No bell chimes mangle the sound, no chanted prayers rise through the dark. Just silence.
right after (cw: drowning mention)
Blue spruces lip the edge of the valley, cusp him in a dewy blue haze. The waxing gibbous moon still stings the sky, its muted glow rivalled by the sunlight that seeps through the trees ahead of him, still too low on the horizon to create a prickle of warmth. Coneflowers and columbines bristle in the grass. Asher’s suitcase snags in the overgrown foliage, beaded with dew. The suitcase has slowed him down, and he doesn’t know if he’s being followed, if someone saw him leave, and for some reason, he doesn’t care.
If they catch him, they’ll drown him. Leaving is worst sin, worse than murder. He’s known this since he was young. And now that he’s here, in a field he doesn’t recognize, under a breeze that gauzes his curls into his face, the guilt sinks to nothing. If they catch him, he can still run.
does anyone follow him? we will never know! at least not until a later update 👁👄👁
here's a line:
The world is an aquarium at this hour. Fused in blue, finches and sparrows floating through the air like fish.
CHAPTER 2: EVERYTHING BRIGHT, EVERYTHING BLINDING
the second chapter, which is the first vignette in parkers's pov. at least, it was supposed to be a vignette, but its currently about 1.5k words so i dont think it counts as a vignette at this point oops. parker arrives in the city and it’s very overwhelming, because she’s only been in a city once before in her life.
The sun needles through her t-shirt, and a light burn grazes her arms. After walking all night, there’s something strange about the light, something unfamiliar. Maybe it’s the city, the way it’s constantly moving. The streets are a shuffle of footsteps and voices, none distinguishable and all of them shouting, laughing, talking in circles.
parker reaches a hotel to stay at and discovers her aesthetic
The large window frames the city, and Parker shifts across to it without taking off her shoes. She trails her fingers over the glass, traces the buildings that cityscape across her vision, the buildings she’s seen from a distance and from beneath them but never from above. The ping of lights, the buzz of cars rattling down the street.
THE WORLD CAN
this is a prose poem (with a bleeding title) and it’s a 336-word-long sentence. apparently giant sentences are my favourite thing to write. i don’t have an excerpt because it’s all one sentence and then i’d have to post the whole thing.
CHAPTER 3: UNTITLED
i tried very hard but couldn’t think of a title for this chapter, and i'll probably think of a brilliant one after its too late. it's the first full length chapter, in asher’s pov. asher sits in a coffee shop and has an existential crises, has a few flashbacks, then ezra walks in and <3 his life is changed forever <3
here’s a bit of asher’s flashback to when he left the cult:
The sun hadn’t risen yet – crickets chirped in the grass, the faint gibbous moon was a stub of candle wax, alone in an navy sky. He left everything behind that morning -- his family who were only family through blood, his friends and acquaintances who never understood him, the world he grew up in, the world he knew, the chapel he knew, the bedroom he knew, the grassy hills and valleys he knew, the daffodils under balconies he knew, the fishing pond he knew, the community kitchen he knew. Everything he knew was suddenly thrust behind him, and the rest of the world had never seemed so clear.
the flashback leads up to his arrival in the city:
He arrived in the city when dawn was at breaking point, when sunlight bruised the cityscape and the drizzle of commuters and the stop signs and the traffic lights. The noise stung his ears, the constant buzzing and shouting and honking. The chaos he’d expected but didn’t fully prepare for.
and then ezra makes an iconic entrance (which literally just his existence is iconic)
At first, he thinks it’s Thomas. He has the same eyes, the same narrow mouth. But he’s taller than Thomas, darker, with wavy sable hair that tumbles over his forehead. A sleek leather jacket. His amber skin reflects the light slinking from the chandelier above Asher’s table. A cigarette tilts between his teeth, leaving a cotton of smoke drooping through the air behind him. His shoes click on the tiles as he walks towards the counter, sunglasses nestled in his hair.
ezra orders coffee, then sits down across from asher and calls him out for staring at him oops!
“What’s up?” he asks. “You’ve been watching me. Do I know you?” His eyes are a lighter shade of hazel from up close, dribbles of yellow pearling around his irises. He balances his cigarette between two fingers on the edge of the table, smoke coiling through the air.
“I’m sorry,” Asher breathes. His words clip in his throat and his voice breaks. It’s never this brittle. “You just look like someone I know.”
they talk for a bit, asher mentions the cult etc etc, then the coffee shop closes and they go outside and ezra asks if asher needs a place to stay for the night. asher accepts the offer and gets in a car with a total stranger, because he’s an idiot and ezra is too charming
(cw: death, shooting reference, mention of dismembering a body)
Asher doesn’t know what to think, following a strange man into a slightly battered silver mustang, doesn’t know what to think when Ezra offers him chewing gum. He takes it, anyway. He doesn’t know why, but he trusts Ezra, in a way he hasn't trusted anyone else he’s met in the city so far. For all he knows, Ezra could drive him into the middle of a forest, rugged spruces looming on all sides, and shoot him in the chest. He could dismember his body and drop the pieces in a lake, to be unearthed by archaeologists years later. But Asher trusts him, and he knows he shouldn’t. He knows he should tell Ezra to pull over, so he can get out and go sit in a park and watch geese float on the water, watch the sun blink out on the horizon – safe, alone, lonely. It’s a risk, being here, but it’s a risk he finds himself willing to take.
CHAPTER 4: TECHNICOLOUR
the second full length chapter, from parker’s pov this time. not a lot happens, most of it is just narrative summary and parker going through Things.
It’s strange, being here – the sizzle of traffic, the shouting of pedestrians, the blaring of horns – and she has a feeling she’ll never fully get used to it. The walls of the apartment shove against her, fluorescent lights fritzing over her head, faraway mountains tossing shadows across the living room floor.
lightning storms – the perfect weather for an existential crisis!
A lightning bolt craters the inky sky and blinds Parker for a second, then disappears, leaving a jagged imprint on the inside of her eyelids.
the following excerpt is a bit of 2020 but in 1994
There’s nothing to do but sleep, now. No events to miss, no catching up to do, no church to attend, no one to talk to. Just silence, jittery music from the TV speakers, rain and sunlight and wind and lightning.
CLAUSTROPHOBIA (n.)
since one of the major themes in ested is fear, i decided to sprinkle in definitions of different phobias, then extend the definitions to relate to the specific characters. this one is VERy melodramatic but here it is anyway because in this house we love melodrama
(n.) an extreme fear of confined spaces.
A fear of the world closing in, the fog of unknowing rampant in the air. You will find that the world is smaller than you think, ever shrinking, shrinking, until it presses in around you like a mold. Until the edges jut against you, cracking your bones, beveling into your ribcage, impaling your stomach until you stop breathing. The world is a mold, squeezing you smaller, smaller, until you barely dot the soil, until the birds can come and pluck you up like a seed. Sure, you can slow it down, you can push it away, you can delay the collapse, but you can’t hold on forever. One day, you’ll only be a memory. One day, you’ll go back to dust.
and that’s everything ! every sun that ever died has been so much more fun to write than anything i’ve written this year, and i’m looking forward to working on it through august. if possible i’ll try to post an update once a month, but i probably won't remember that.
- ava
taglist (i just have one for all my wips – ask to be added/removed!) : @gracestowewriting @flip-phones @shaelinwrites @chewingthescenery @august-iswriting @dallonswords @wildswrites @nodeadnarrators @annlillyjose @shaonharryandpannisim @letsgetsquiggly @strangerays @mel-writes-with-her-dragons @teaandtypewriters @kahaaniyaa @coffeeandcalligraphy @47crayons @writing-is-a-martial-art @familiarvillain @bookdragonfanish @childhoodlovers @finch-goes-tweet @zoya-writes @pepperdee @oceancold @another-wannabe-novelist
[image description: an orange full moon partly covered by the silhouettes of bushes over a dark blue sky. in the centre, white serif font reads “writeblr introduction.” / end id]
WRITEBLR REINTRO
hello! i made a writeblr intro a few months ago, but it’s a bit outdated now and i recently hit 100 followers so i decided to remake it!
about me
i’m a teen writer from bc, canada (she/her)
i write literary fiction novels and short stories
i also write poetry (more than novels these days)
i love flowery prose and weird verbs and specificity
i’m a discovery writer
i’m obsessed with nothing but thieves which is unrelated but still important
i use my thesaurus too much
my wips
[image description: a hand in front of a bush picking a red berry. in the top left corner in white serif font, text reads “crane anatomy” / end id]
my main wip. a literary fiction coming of age novel set in the late 60s about girlhood and gaslighting and too many sun descriptions <3. sunny aesthetic layered over a dark story. outdated wip intro here.
[image description: two hands underwater reaching in from opposite sides. text in the bottom right hand corner reads “when we drown” / end id]
my side wip, also literary fiction. follows a girl named april whose brother disappears and then she starts seeing his ghost and people think she’s going crazy and she might be. wip intro here!
[image description: a faded green field in front of a dark turquoise sky. text in the right top corner reads “every sun that ever died” / end id]
another side wip i haven’t started yet but have been brainstorming and am verrrryyy excited about. its my first ever cult story (i’m so late to this) and it has two POVs and some of my favourite characters i’ve ever created, all of whom are extremely traumatized <3. wip intro here.
[image description: a hand in front of a white wall holding an orange butterfly. text to the right of the hand reads “house ghosts” / end id]
my poetry collection! this is basically all my poetry, most of which i’ve written this year. running themes include: death and ghosts. i don’t talk about this wip often but i included it here because i might start posting poetry at some point!
ask if you want to be added/removed from wip taglist (i just have one for all my wips!)
hello fellow writers, readers and people who like to stalk the internet at 10:00 o'clock at night.
I have not posted in what feels like forever, but I am proud to say that I have many things to talk about, and updates for in the future. So I'll have to make this a quick post, just to give you guys a taste of what I'm writing currently.
SO, currently I've decided to torture myself and write about several projects, one of which are two novels. One I have decided to call Divine Blood, and the other I am still debating but I think that I will call it (Little) Peace Offerings.
Both projects I am very exited for, and as a discovery writer, I am crunching through each one with the flashlight/headlight/vague image method.
so to clarify, I don't really know what I'm about to write, but when writing it, I can understand what happens next. (I don't know if that makes any sense but I tried)
Another two projects I have decided to invest my time in are short story collections, both are still being written and not anywhere close to the editing phase, but at this current time I've been waiting for another random fleeting image that somehow forms into a short story. The first is called: Chimes of the Dead, the other is called (for the time being) We Girls are Monsters.
(I hope that I cam make a post that will expand a bit more on the title of the second collection and how I personally feel about it, but for now I just have to say that I don't like the way that the title is so gendered, and wish that my brain could work to find another that is more inclusive but still includes the general themes of the book)
And the last, things that I'm working on is an untitled comic that is something more lenient, that I doubt I will edit or even work on heavily, but am still enjoying the process for. As well as Rules of Falling Asleep in A Bathtub, a poetry collection that I have posted about and will leave a link to here
anyways, readers, writers and scrollers, I hope that you all have wonderful days, and that you at least get a couple of hours (at least 2-8) of sleep, so that you wake up slightly energized.
I'm a black trans struggling with severe depression and panic attacks and also body dysphoria I really need this surgery so I can finally be myself and feel comfortable in my own body 💕
Rules of Falling Asleep in the Bathtub | Chapbook/Writing Update
[Image id/ a phot of clouds, blue sky, white, orange, and hints of pink-colored clouds. with an italicized title marked, rules of falling asleep in the bathtub / end id]
Hey, ya'll! I told you that I would make a WIP, well here it is!
I had created this word in English class for an English assignment and it turned into more of a passion project after a while. I had been writing some poetry here and there in my own time but this gave me a space to place my work. anyways I'm done with the rambling here are some things about it.
Status/amount of poems written: Currently, I'm shooting for the average amount of poems you would find in a chapbook which is 30, but right now I have about 9.
Poems:
Angles who decided to be artist
Bitter-Bitter people borne from irregular beating
Earths lovely bruse
Portrait Study
Give me the World
Supernova
Beautiful Flight
The tortured-torturers
Lady power
truthful untruth
Aesthetic: Outerspace, floating on clouds, bubbles
[Image Id/ four phots; picture number one has a person with long braids dancing while bubbles and mist float around them, number two of someone with tucked-up hair sitting on clouds reading while the sun sets, three is white and pink macaroons shimmering with a pink filter, number four, an evening sky with the camera point up at purple and pink clouds, with a blue sky and small crescent moon / end id]
Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this little writing update, have a good rest of your day. Take care of yourself and get some sleep!
As most of you know, the news of our recently discovered Indigenous children in a mass grave … Steve Sxwithultxw needs your support for Find
Hi all, I wanted to share this link here because this is so important! Description of the fundraiser copied from the GoFundMe page:
As most of you know, the news of our recently discovered Indigenous children in a mass grave in Kamloops BC has devastated our First Nations communities to its core.
No words can describe this news of our lost children ... 215 some young as 3 years old.
There were over 130 residential school in Canada prior to the final closing in 1996.
Carver Tom LaFortune who resides in Victoria mentioned in a recent phone call how devastating this news has been for him and his family. We discussed our emotional attachment to this tragic event, we decided to take action. We can no long rely on government to take initiative.
There are several locations on Vancouver Island where residential schools were located including the following:
Kuper Island Residential School - Penelakut Island
St. Michaels Residential School - Alert Bay
Christie (Clayoquot/Kakawis) School - Tofin/Mears Island
Alberni Residential School - Port Alberni
Ahousaht Residential School -Ahousaht Island
Following our protocols, guided by our Elders and working with our young people, we want to start searching the residential school properties. Using the technology that was used at Tk'emlups residential school (Kamloops) it is critical we begin searching for more of our lost children.
This will take time and resources to make this happen.
Tom and I are requesting your support ... Help us raise money to buy this ground penetrating radar unit estimated to be worth $25,000.
This is not an easy task , but we feel strongly that we must take action.
Full accountability will be used in this fund raising event to find our children.
now that the media has continued on their roll of being disgusting in regards to how they treat such devastating situations such as the 215 lost indigenous children found in kamloops this past week, i absolutely encourage all of my canadian and non-canadian people on here to really look into and read about the history of residential schools in canada. this is one mass grave found at 1 of 139 residential schools across the country, we don't even know the half of what is still out there to be found. this is not just a 'devastating part of our history' the last one to close was in 1996, less than 30 years ago. this is our PRESENT, these children would have been elders in their community, guides, grandparents, this isn't history. this was a genocide, and the government of canada still refuses to acknowledge that.
some resources to peak at
this website belongs to the Tk’emlúps te Secwe̓pemc community, and also provides a significant amount of important and informative resources.
the history of residential schools told from the perspective of indigenous people of canada - this website also provides other information in regards to the truth and reconciliation commission, as well as more information about how indigenous people's are still fighting for the truth to come out.
st anne's residential school in port albany, ontario was one of the worst of them all, and many of the indigenous children who were forced to attend are currently fighting for the entire truth to be revealed.
this entire website put out by UBC gives an informative and important look into the systematic racism that indigenous people's in canada still suffer under
these are just four of thousands of resources you can find about the devastation that residential schools caused, but i would absolutely encourage each and every one of you to look into and read about these 'schools'.
I've been on writebr for a while and I realized that I haven't really posted anything writing-related on my account XD so I thought I would try to make more posts and tell you about some projects I'm working on.
If you're really curious though, I have a MyWriteClub account where I update most of my projects regularly.
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