#generalwritingstuff

[coffin-flop]

hey how do u finish a creative writing project w/o the pressure of a deadline/grade?

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diversity loses! google docs is homophobic :(

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none of my non binary characters have any explanation or discussion abt their gender bc its my story and i’ve decided

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Can't stop thinking about how I haven't written anything creative since I got a whole ass degree in creative writing.

[coffin-flop]

offerings

I have sacrificed oceans

to a yesterday I cannot erase.

No matter how pure the saltwater,

the past will not wash away.

I gave my moon to yesterday,

but it only brightened the memories.

Giving up the sun

only encouraged the shadows. 

The past has no room for gifts

she already holds. Her sea is bluer,

her moon is brighter, her sun is warmer,

her soil is more fertile. She wants only

what she does not own. And so, I give to her

(without choice, without failure)

my future. She has tomorrow for forever,

and as the most unwilling companion,

I have her for forever.

[coffin-flop]

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potion-making & other things forgotten in childhood

Little girls, stirring up mud, sitting cross-legged as they title their bubbling potion in the cauldron of the dirt. For once, the witch is good. She has not a wand or a crown  or pretty, glittery wings,  but she has a cauldron of Earth,  she has mud, she has worms. She is free.

There are some stories mothers won’t tell, but girls will inherit. There will be untold tales of trauma and grief, but there is more than just pain. There are stories of twigs and leaves and grass stains and trees. Truths of whispers and giggles and declaration of freedom. Little girls never hear these tales in words spoken by mothers, but these are the truths she will feel, cross-legged in the mud. Sometimes,  (most times), she will forget this truth. She will not tell these stories. That does not mean they are not her own. She will never lose the freedom she found in the trees and creeks and bramble bushes.

Her cauldron will always be beneath her feet, wherever she is. If she looks down,  after the rain, she will see her potion, bubbling and brewing,  just as she left it. She is free.

[coffin-flop]

i’m thinking about having kids and being able to tell them stories out loud and curtail them to their interests and to address their fears and praise them but like in stories