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[nondelphic]

"just write a little every day" ok but what if i write nothing for 3 weeks and then suddenly type like i’m being hunted by god

[sixsocksscienceclub]

This works too!

[docrobinavitch]

the only thing to do when you hate your writing is to keep writing and keep writing and keep writing and keep writing until something vaguely resembling what it looked like in your head comes out

[sixsocksscienceclub]

Hence why I write daily. So much progress in nine months.....

[16tinyfrogs]

on watching a parent age

i saw somebody say “what if you’re gone and i haven’t become anything yet” and basically that broke me on a random thursday evening

[theriu]

OP, this is genuinely a masterpiece, three poems in one, moving and well crafted. Please tell me you have submitted it to at least some poetry contests, and if not, please do so.

[sixsocksscienceclub]

"What if you go, and I haven't become anything yet? "

[sarahwatchesthings]

[sixsocksscienceclub]

Don't make me *actually* do my job.

[sixsocksscienceclub]

For those of you who have been so very patient. Here's the latest chapter I've been working on.

Can I say that the delay was caused by life and its complex, chaotic, and intricate dance?

[sixsocksscienceclub]

Chapters: 10/10 Fandom: Castle (TV 2009) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Kate Beckett, Richard Castle, Kevin Ryan, Javier Esposito, Lanie Parish, Jim Beckett, Josh Davidson Summary:

Beckett has been shot (Knockout S4E23 and Rise S4E1). This is what transpires between being rushed to the ER, Castle coming to visit, and her recovery afterwards. Warning: graphic and realistic depictions of anatomy, surgery, CPR, etc. Everyone makes it out, but I'm not sugarcoating it.

[sixsocksscienceclub]

A letter never sent (Castle Fanfiction sneak peak)

Banged out a short piece; more of a love letter that isn't really a love letter.

Fandom: Castle

Setting: Detective Kate Beckett has been shot (S3E24) and when her sidekick author Richard Castle, who just confessed his love for her, comes to see her, she "breaks up" with him.

Writing Challenges/Prompts: @monthlywritingchallenges "A letter never sent", and my own challenge to include song lyrics.

This is a small part of a new chapter I'm working on for my story RISE. Follow for the rest ;)

~~~~

Kate,

I haven’t felt like writing lately. I normally write every day. Something, anything; usually just a few paragraphs here or there mixed in with solving crimes with you. Before you, this task had started to get painful. I killed off Derek Storm because the daily exercises became exhausting. Boring. After meeting you though, even when I didn’t feel like it, I could bang out a few pages. I loved it again, because I loved you. 

I haven’t written since you were shot. 

Until tonight. I’m in such a funk sitting out here on my balcony, a little too much of that St. Miriam’s in my glass, stiff and cold. 

I put a mixtape in the stereo, labeled “sad breakup”, a CD I had buried deep in the stacks. I hadn’t listened to it in a long time. Something about tonight warranted the need. 

I’m letting the lyrics float over me as I let the words flow out. 

While this letter is for you, I never intend for you to see it. 

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

I didn’t know what I was going to do when I killed off Derek Storm. I had my money, I didn’t need to keep working this hard. But who was I if I wasn’t a writer? Then I ran into you. You pursued me into the library, and I pursued you ever since. Since meeting you, my world has been on fire. I was so close to telling you I loved you so many times. Then I finally did. 

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I stayed up late to write about you. I got up early to chase down murderers in shady parts of town with you. I went out of my way to that shop you like, to bring you a coffee you would just get a few sips in before setting down and forgetting it to let it get cold. Because I loved you. I love you Kate Beckett. 

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

Why is it that the thing that attracts you to a person always ends up being that thing that just drives you crazy? 

No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)No, I don't wanna fall in love (this world is only gonna break your heart)With youWith you (This world is only gonna break your heart)

This isn’t a love letter Kate. It’s just a letter to let you know that I’m still incredibly mad at you. 

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this wayWhat a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of youWhat a wicked thing to say, you never felt this wayWhat a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you. 

I’ll give you the space you asked for. I’ll give you the space that your dad said you clearly needed. I told you my peace. I told you how I felt, more than once, and you burned me. Bad.

I tell you I love you and you die. I try again, and you bleed out from a ruptured suture. Third time, pneumonia. Fourth time, well, you broke my heart into so many pieces I’ll be puzzling them together.

For how long will depend on you.

~~~~

[sixsocksscienceclub]

If you have been following along, I started another little side project. This one is mostly a place for my random prompts and challenges. Still very much a WIP. Thanks

[sixsocksscienceclub]

Bones/Castle Crossover

Installment 3.1: The moment everything changed

@monthlywritingchallenges

‘Whoah,’ he thought for a second, suddenly aware of his heart beat. Brennan noticed the softening of Booth’s face, a brief moment, his work phone ringing obnoxiously in her hand. She had been attempting to feed their young daughter, Christine, secured in her high chair and gleefully throwing gooey chunks of banana around. Booth had set his work phone on the counter next to his keys and personal phone as he went in for a quick shower, his dawn run delayed this morning due to a little bedroom cardio. He wasn’t normally on call until closer to nine am, enough time to get into the office and at least open his email; this seven am call was unusual. Brennen knew enough not to answer it herself, so had brought it to the bathroom, having heard the water stop. 

Booth was just standing there, dripping and… ‘oh,’ she realized, ‘so… hmmmm…’ Her breath caught in a satisfied hum, his phone in her hand silencing and buzzing to voicemail instead. Although they had already enjoyed each other physically this morning, this thing that she felt just now was different; it hit a different part of her, more cerebral and soulful than just physical attraction and sexual drive.

“Your… uhm… your phone.” Talking with him shouldn’t be this awkward, but this moment - the one her brain interpreted as love coming back between them - slowed her usual responses. 

Booth felt it too, a smile softening his face as he reached for her, the strong, insanely smart and ever endearingly awkward love of his life in front of him now. He wanted to hold her, protect her, see that smile every morning when he woke up, and every night when he finally went to sleep. He had loved her for a long time, but he had allowed the resentment to build that last few months, especially when she had fled. He had let that resentment stew into anger, and as Sweets had so bluntly the other morning, Booth couldn’t forgive her for her behavior until he forgave himself for his. 

It was at this moment, his gaze darting down to the small piece of banana sticking to her shirt collar instead of her blue, now slightly moist eyes, that he realized. Mundane; everyday; nearly routine to the point of not being noticed; somehow, this was the moment everything changed. 

Booth’s phone started its obnoxious ring again, the caller apparently not satisfied with leaving a voicemail. 

The cosmos had shifted, but apparently reality had not.

[mayasaura]

I'm doing my part!!

[mayasaura]

I feel like it really adds something to know that this coffee shop was right next to the state capitol building. There is a non-zero chance one of these lattes ended up in the senate chamber.

[mayasaura]

Congratulations, you've unlocked the secret nerd bonus! I actually ended up texting a friend who specializes in the early Roman empire for advice on designing this special.

Honey and almond are pretty self-explanatory, as honey and nuts both figured heavily in Roman desserts. Cinnamon, meanwhile, means dead rich guy. It was insanely expensive to obtain, and the wealthiest of Romans used it to scent funeral pyres, so that the smell of burning cinnamon would cover the scent of cremation.

[sixsocksscienceclub]

Y'all it took forever....but I'm finally caught up in editing this lovely fic. One of my favorites. Now, as some of you have oh so kindly requested, I have started outlining a continuation of the story. Pop in any thoughts you have of how we should torture Beckett emotionally some more so that we can finally understand why she threw away the best thing she ever had.

[sixsocksscienceclub]

Castle/Bones Crossover (Writing challenges!)

Multiple writing challenges, one overarching story.

Castle/Bones Crossover

@monthlywritingchallenges Prompts: First Impressions

Writing challenge: Start a sentence with each letter of the alphabet.

Installment 2: The Crime Scene

Detective’s Ryan and Esposito - the junior detectives that rounded out her team - had beaten her to the scene. “Par for the course”, Beckett mused, taking one last sip of the cold sparkling water she had snagged from the fridge on her way out the door. She pulled her new cruiser up next to the beater the boys shared, windshields facing a clearly abandoned warehouse, sides to the icy Hudson river. Vagrants frequented a place like this, and she was glad that the presence of cops may have spooked them away for now; too much foot traffic made these types of scenes extremely difficult to solve. This murder call was right on the edge of their precinct boundary- territoriality between the different precincts of Manhattan occasionally allowed some grey area overlap depending on who was busier, or how complicated the case was. Flicking a curt but polite “good morning” to the patrol officer setting up the crime scene tape, Beckett blinked the last of sleep from her eyes, the first beams of the sunrise beginning to deepen the shadows around her. 

Making eye contact with Esposito as she stepped into the warehouse entrance, she took a customary breath to calm her racing brain. “Approach every scene as a rookie. Look at everything, not just what you want to see, but what you actually see,” she let the silent mantra guide her eyes over the scene. Before her lay a woman, young ish - definitely less than thirty, but no longer a teen- sprawled face down on the dirty concrete floor. Neon pink fishnets, ripped and bloodied, tangled the woman’s legs together, while a cheap sequined crop top that was once complete pulled down over one shoulder, stabs and slashes having ripped the other side. Curly short blonde hair framed the woman’s face, frozen in pain, eyes shut; hair still so perfectly curled and set that a small part of Beckett wondered if it was a wig, and if not, she needed to know what hairspray the woman had used. Obvious drag marks ending under her body lead to where she had initially been stabbed, about one hundred yards farther into the warehouse. Xanthic disturbances in the dust telegraphed the struggle, and Beckett was glad the guys noticed as well, setting the evidence barrier farther back to capture any rogue footprints, hopefully from the suspect. Underneath the body, a pool of blood was partially congealed; Beckett had been doing this long enough to know that this body was only a few hours old at this point. Hell of a first impression. 

“ID?” Having completed her initial cursory observation, Beckett turned to Esposito near the garage door entrance, who was wrapping up the rough sketch of the scene from that angle. 

“Zinnia Elegante,” he didn’t normally add small flourishes to information dumps- she had trained them early on to have more respect for the dead and to keep their gallows humor limited to the precinct and each other- but he had a small chuckle as he handed her not only the woman’s driver’s licence with her given name (Alice Chalman), but also her photo id for the club she was a dancer at.  

Quietly cursing the fact that it was around four in the morning, and pushing down yet another unwelcome roll of nausea that reminded her she hadn’t had any coffee yet, Beckett had a shorter than normal fuse. 

“Explain?” she asked, testing his ability to theorize on the spot, demonstrating their training and reputation as an elite squad. He never got the chance to redeem himself though. 

“You need to see this, Beckett,” Detective Ryan interrupted with a quiet reverence to his demeanor, kneeling close to the body and snapping photos of evidence as he went along. 

“What is that?” Becket, who had switched her usual heels for sensible flats in the rush out the door, sidestepped the dried blood indicating where the dragging had stopped and the pooling began. Jutting out from around the victims fingers was what appeared to be a bone, poking a mere inch out of the concrete floor, the victim’s grip concealing anything more. 

“Good catch….” Beckett allowed her observation to trail off as she crouched closer. “Keep this one close to the vest,” she advised her team, recognizing the bone for what it was - human. Reeling just a little from the sudden change to standing, she slid her phone out of her pocket as she stood. This case was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

[xyywrites]

Best Writing Advice I’ve Ever Received

1. “You can’t edit a blank page.”

This advice hit me like a ton of bricks when I first heard it. It’s so simple, yet so powerful. Writing something—even if it’s not perfect—is better than writing nothing at all. The idea is to get the words out, even if they’re messy, and then fix them later. There’s always room to improve, but the hardest part is starting. So, don’t wait for perfection. Just write.

2. “Show, don’t tell—except when you should tell.”

It’s one of the classic writing rules, and yet, I found this piece of advice to be both a game-changer and a huge relief. So often, we get stuck on the idea that “showing” is the ultimate goal. But sometimes, telling is just as effective. It’s about knowing when to lean into subtlety and when to give the reader exactly what they need upfront.

3. “Write the book you want to read.”

This was one of the most liberating pieces of advice I’ve ever received. So many times, we get caught up in writing what we think people will want to read, or what we think is “marketable.” But when you focus on writing a story you genuinely want to read—one that excites and moves you—everything else falls into place.

4. “Don’t compare your first draft to someone else’s final draft.”

This one is a tough one to swallow, especially in the age of social media where we’re constantly exposed to the polished, perfect versions of other people’s work. It’s easy to feel like you’re falling behind when you compare your rough drafts to someone else’s masterpiece. But every writer starts somewhere, and your first draft is just that—a draft.

5. “Make your characters want something, even if it’s just a glass of water.”

This advice came from a workshop, and it’s one that I’ve come back to time and time again. It’s a reminder that characters need motivation—whether it’s a big goal like saving the world, or something small and personal, like finding a glass of water in the desert. A character without desire is a character that feels flat and uninteresting.

6. “The best way to improve your writing is to read more than you write.”

This advice took me a while to fully understand, but it makes perfect sense. Reading other authors’ work, especially those whose writing you admire, teaches you things that can’t be learned through theory or workshops alone. You’ll pick up on pacing, voice, structure, and what makes a story truly captivating—all while expanding your understanding of storytelling.

7. “Your first draft is just you telling yourself the story.”

This was another gem of wisdom that I didn’t fully grasp at first. It’s easy to fall into the trap of wanting your first draft to be perfect, but it’s not meant to be. The first draft is for you—to explore the plot, the characters, the world. It’s your chance to get everything down and see where it leads, without worrying about perfection.

8. “Write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.”

This is one of Stephen King’s rules of writing, and it’s a brilliant one. When you’re drafting, don’t worry about anyone else reading your work. It’s your time to be raw and experimental. But when it comes to revising, open that door—let others in for feedback, because the revision process is where the magic happens.

[sixsocksscienceclub]

Reblogging so I can find this later, when I need motivation. Right now I just need time

[sixsocksscienceclub]

An idea finally hit me as I waited for my morning coffee. Attempting to incorporate March writing challenges. The overarching idea is that this is a fun crossover of my favorite duo. Here's the first installment. Enjoy!

Castle and Bones Crossover "Title WIP"

Installment 1: Prompt "I'm fine" @marchwhumpness

Her phone blared, the ringtone something close to the imperial march, but with a lighter jaunt to it. She hadn’t chosen the ringtone; she preferred it on vibrate. It was something her boyfriend Rick Castle had programmed for her, an attempt to put a smile on her face when duty took her out of their bed too soon. And indeed it did put a smile on Detective Kate Beckett’s face - or that could have just been the fact that it was murder - as she extracted herself from Rick’s heavy arm wrapped around her torso and cupping her butt. She had fallen asleep sometime in the early morning hours, curled up in his embrace again, pushing down tears from the new anxiety-fueled nightmares that kept her awake every night this week. She didn’t understand these new intrusions, they were filled with nonsense and worries she had thought she buried long ago. 

Rick grunted in his sleep at the change in pressure and movement as Beckett sat up to answer the phone. He half opened his eyes to the sight of her gorgeous naked back as she jotted down the details on the little notepad she kept on her bedside table. He was fully awake as she stood and spun around, fully alert to the easy beauty she exuded with every ounce of her being. 

“Don’t get up. It’s just a murder.” Kate leaned down to kiss him goodbye, but paused to swallow a roll of nausea that threatened to ruin her morning. The morning nausea was just as new as the nightmares, and she already wasn’t a fan. Rick noticed her soft grimace and answered with a blurry questioning look. “I’m fine hun,” was his only answer as she completed the kiss. 

She continued talking as she slipped her underwear on, “I’ll text you the address, just meet us there when you get up.” Using her phone flashlight, Detective Kate Beckett traced the path of their passionately discarded clothing through his loft.

[sixsocksscienceclub]

Instead of working on new material - because I'm out of fresh ideas right now - I'm editing, hoping it will spark some new ideas. So here's another chapter edit. This is one chapter I am very proud of!

[sixsocksscienceclub]

Instead of writing new material - I literally don't have any fresh ideas right now, despite the prompts piling up..... - I've been editing, hoping it sparks something. Here's one of my most favorite chapters of all time. One I'm really proud of!

[sixsocksscienceclub]

A new weekend, a newly edited chapter!

Working my way to new chapters, so stay patient fans. Sometimes good writing takes a while to manifest, like baking amazing bread.