About me: Hey, I'm Raina, but you can call me Random or Ray. I go by She/Her pronouns, and I will be posting writing bits, books I'm reading, and so much more on my page. I hope you will stick around. Thanks, sincerely Random

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shark vs the universe
almost home

JBB: An Artblog!
we're not kids anymore.
taylor price
trying on a metaphor
Today's Document

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sheepfilms

pixel skylines
Stranger Things

#extradirty

Product Placement

Origami Around
art blog(derogatory)
Claire Keane

izzy's playlists!

JVL
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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@randomraynextdoor
About me: Hey, I'm Raina, but you can call me Random or Ray. I go by She/Her pronouns, and I will be posting writing bits, books I'm reading, and so much more on my page. I hope you will stick around. Thanks, sincerely Random
“Find me now. Before someone else does.”
— Haruki Murakami, 1Q84
Look i joke a lot about not trusting people who don't like modern art, but in all seriousness no matter what you think of it, if someone earnestly calls a piece of modern art "degenerate", run
“Self-deception is a pessimistic definition of optimism.”
— William T. Vollmann, Europe Central
TW: Gore
"The times in which she dreamt were by far the best memories she formed. No one hurt her. She knew her life was better than most, but she still didn't feel... She dreamt seldom, however, and only in short bursts of remembrance. But even so, nothing could beat the bliss she felt while sleeping, not her family and friends. Nothing made her feel the way dreaming once did. One sunny July day, she woke up in a puddle of sweat. Something had happened, something she had never experienced before. A nightmare. One so bad that she woke up in tears, one so bad she actually would rather be awake then asleep, and that night she went to bed hoping it was only a one time thing, it was not. The next morning was more of the same, a horrible dream she dared not let leave her lips in fear. She didn't know of what. From that day forward, she refused to sleep. Doctors would be brought in by her worried parents no no avail. She would force herself awake and would stare out her window. No one knew what was wrong with the previously healthy girl. Her parents would say she was a normal child, if not a little distant at times, but nothing quite amis. She wouldn't even speak. She had to stay awake. Once inevitably brought into a hospital via force, doctors held her down as her screams filled the hospital. A week. A week without sleeping. Once they finally forced her body to sleep, everyone relaxed, hoping the effects of her week of hysteria wouldn't be too dire. Everything was once calm again. Until around 4:43 the following morning when reports of screams fled throughout the hospital, the screams of a little girl mixed with something else.. Something darker. She loved the bliss dreaming gave her, until she didn't, Until instead of waking up in a puddle of sweat. She woke up in a puddle of blood." (Short story: Nightmare)
TW: Gore
"The times in which she dreamt were by far the best memories she formed. No one hurt her. She knew her life was better than most, but she still didn't feel... She dreamt seldom, however, and only in short bursts of remembrance. But even so, nothing could beat the bliss she felt while sleeping, not her family and friends. Nothing made her feel the way dreaming once did. One sunny July day, she woke up in a puddle of sweat. Something had happened, something she had never experienced before. A nightmare. One so bad that she woke up in tears, one so bad she actually would rather be awake then asleep, and that night she went to bed hoping it was only a one time thing, it was not. The next morning was more of the same, a horrible dream she dared not let leave her lips in fear. She didn't know of what. From that day forward, she refused to sleep. Doctors would be brought in by her worried parents no no avail. She would force herself awake and would stare out her window. No one knew what was wrong with the previously healthy girl. Her parents would say she was a normal child, if not a little distant at times, but nothing quite amis. She wouldn't even speak. She had to stay awake. Once inevitably brought into a hospital via force, doctors held her down as her screams filled the hospital. A week. A week without sleeping. Once they finally forced her body to sleep, everyone relaxed, hoping the effects of her week of hysteria wouldn't be too dire. Everything was once calm again. Until around 4:43 the following morning when reports of screams fled throughout the hospital, the screams of a little girl mixed with something else.. Something darker. She loved the bliss dreaming gave her, until she didn't, Until instead of waking up in a puddle of sweat. She woke up in a puddle of blood." (Short story: Nightmare)
i love you secondhand books i love you paperbacks i love you public libraries i love you school libraries i love you little free libraries i love you audiobooks i love you librivox i love you libby i love you ebooks i love you pdfs i love you internet archive i love you public domain i love you free and cheap and imperfect books i love you widely accessible resources
23 Books for 2023: A Reading Challenge
Reading books and buying books are two different hobbies. Prove me wrong
5 Ways to Fix Writer's Block
Grab your Journal
Close the blank word doc, take your hands off the keyboard, and get out a pen and paper. Even just writing through my problem in pen can be enough to get the words going again, but if that doesn’t work, try drawing out diagrams of your plots alongside their subplots, make lists of all the things you like or don’t like, or try to recap what you’ve written already from memory.
Trust me, sometimes a change of scenery is all you need.
2. Ask questions
This is typically what I tell my writing friends when they’re stuck on their plot. Plots are driven by posing and answering questions. What are the implications of your characters or worldbuilding? What are the consequences of the thing that just happened?
If you’re not sure where to start, try getting someone else to read it and come up with questions or predictions about the unknown in your narrative. Often, ‘being stuck’ just means you’re focused too much on the closed door right in front of you, instead of looking around at all the other paths and directions you can take.
If your plot says the president needs to be kidnapped by your main characters, what are the implications? What would the news look like? The streets of downtown? The opposing political groups after their disappearance? What kind of impact would that have on your main characters? On their families who don’t know? Any question you can think of, write it down, see where it takes you.
3. Read something
I know for a lot of us this is annoying advice, but it’s true. You can’t write without fuel, and sometimes being stuck just means you’re out of inspiration. Reread a chapter of your favourite novel, or that new library book you haven’t gotten the chance to get to yet, or a graphic novel or even a synopsis of a movie you want to see.
Any type of reading can spark more words.
4. Talk it Out
Grab a writing friend or mentor and talk through your story or problem. This works the same as grabbing a journal, except now you have feedback and new opinions to work with. Most the time, however, I don’t even need a response, I just needed to talk through the block in my mind before I’m off again.
5. Mess around and find out
This tip comes from my creative writing class—sometimes all a stuck story needs is to be messed with a little. Open a blank document and try writing the story beginning with the end—or the middle, or with a side character, or the antagonist. Try changing the tone, or take a word crucial to your plot and try to write without it. Maybe, even, you’ll find that the change you made works even better than what you had originally planned.
Good luck!
This is so true! Sometimes, you just need to take a break and let loose to remember your passion :)
"Something is wrong with the way I move, I can't recognize, my arms in a sea of glass"
From "Reflection of Edges"
Shake from Steak and Shake 💕
"I cross the street without an arm to hold me back." They Both Die at The End, Adam Silvera
"Fire is like water in its ability to kill"
Quote from my book I never finished "Chionophile"
"There were times that nothing made sense to the girl, but even in those times, he always did"
Quote from my wip short story "Let"
"And before her feet had even touched the ground, she claimed she had never flown"
Quote from my wip story, "the birds never fly"