Nov 14, 2025
I've been staring at a text doc for five minutes, trying to decide if Enid, comforting a hurt/barely conscious Wednesday, would call her baby or sweetie
seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from Morocco
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from Italy
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Yemen
seen from Türkiye
seen from Austria
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Argentina
seen from Malaysia
seen from Morocco
seen from United States
I've been staring at a text doc for five minutes, trying to decide if Enid, comforting a hurt/barely conscious Wednesday, would call her baby or sweetie
As month 4 of being stuck on the next chapter of her fic has come and gone, the author sits in a corner, gently rocking herself. "At least I don't use AI," she mumbles, over and over.
Using my retail job experience as the subject for a poetry assignment for my writing course. I'm awful at poetry, been dreading this part of the module, and couldn't wait for it to be over. And yet, I've never felt more inspired to write anything lmao. Who knew the power of service industry trauma was so much stronger than my imagination or any fandom hyperfixation I've ever had
I can't type the word "Wednesday" today without fucking it up one or two times first. Which is fine, not like it's word that comes up super often when writing a Wenclair fic 🙃. But other than that, progress is good and I'm excited to finally be fully moving away from my writer's block \o/
ah yes. the area 51 of my writing notes. what does any of it mean? is any of it even real? the world may never know.
Realized the most I've written (not for school) in months was a rant about a video game that doesn't even exist yet
just got hit with a scene I needed to write down for my fic (that's been mostly on hold because all my mental energy is going towards my college course rn) I storm into the office, turn on my PC, and flip around the "fuck off, I'm writing" sign my wife got me for Christmas my wife: "...are you good?" me: literally taps the sign wife: understands me: feverishly types out multiple paragraphs in a desperate race to get it all down before it melts from my brain
save my work, flip the sign back over, kiss my wife for being wonderful and understanding and putting up with living with a creative type
I just finished shifting all my stuff from google docs to ellipsus and getting it all organized the slow way (aka copious copy/pasting) and then ellipsus rolls out .docx importing and exporting, god dammit 🤣