#needtowritemore

[mrs-quiet]

20210224

I've come to my original problem of how to engage my readers more. My SO said that my writing is like a police blotter - informative but not engaging. What I'm gleening from thier observation is not enough emotion is being conveyed through my writing. I would love suggestions how to engage my readers more. I am editing book one to have more descriptions of the world that I am building, but I don't think that will be enough.

[amkalust]

Again

I’ve done this whole thing before. Half a decade (holy shit) since my last post. A lifetime of changes, in only a twentieth of a century.

My last tumblr felt like a graveyard of expectations, lust, dreams that I had to let go of, and the immense pain of emerging on the other side of fire. And while it captured the beginning of my life with M, I can’t, in good conscience, intermingle those two drastically different parts of my life.

Here’s to growth.

Here’s to happy changes. To ripping the band-aid off without screaming. To the moments that happen around me that I have a deep-seeded desire to preserve. To the love of everyday magic that we all need to notice a bit more.

Here’s to a new endeavor. A few years older, maybe a few wiser as well.

[01shauna01]

Its okay

Oh shit, she thought. All the worlds around her became overwhelming. She started hyperventilating and found herself breathing the words, 'Oh Shit, Oh Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit' like it was a mantra to help her. She quickly pulled her hands over her arms as if to hug herself in comfort. It was then that she realised all her pain was not in vain. A glimmer of hope rose as the light rays of the sun started kissing the clouds.

Relieved, she sighed aloud retreated back. She knew that no matter how shitty now was, it would be okay.

[crobin13]

Found this in the notes on my phone. Really wish my mind would let me concentrate enough to write for significant amount of time instead of in little minute bursts. #writing #wednesdaywords #needtowritemore

[thecraigfletcher]

I forgot I wrote this joke!! This was 2 years ago! Damn I'm funny! #jokes #timehop #needtowritemore

[waytoopersonalblog-blog]

Dam - I used to write well

I used to have a lot of good ideas. Those ideas were beautifully articulated in another blog I used to write in: http://thoughtsofbabel.blogspot.com/

At some point my ideas revealed my craziness. Insecurities came pouring out of me. Blog posts and ideas that were pushed and pulled by my emotions and how I was feeling - and when the dust settled I read those posts sober and thought ‘oh my god’, do I actually believe that? 

I’d publish posts that made me want to crawl in a rock and hope no one read it. Yet, I couldn’t get myself to delete them either. I think there is a lesson to learn from all of this. 

1) I’m capable of more than I know

I was at the top of my writing game back then. Ideas flowing, witty humor, connecting the days events with ideas and videos and other interesting things. It would flow and I would write with such ease. The relationship I had with God definitely helped and yes he deserves all the credit for giving me the gift, but I have a gift! These days my writings a bit dry and not as creative as it used to be but it’s in there. I’ve lost touch with tapping into that creative writer though. 

2) Not All Days are Good

The bad blog posts got to me. Heck, I would even define a bad blog post. Posts that didn’t get enough views or comments, those were the metrics of success I would use to compare one post from another. Not the creativity involved in whipping up a blog post or the emotion and effort put into it - views and comments. I let the worth of my blog post be determined by forces outside my control.

By bad blog posts, I also mean I went a bit overboard. I’d say something out of emotion or a feeling, and I would contradict myself. I would look at a post the next day and think to myself, I don’t really mean that - and I would feel like an imposter. Like I said it and I couldn’t take it back. But sharing ideas and talking is not a came of ‘no-takebacks’. Ideas, values, insights change, it would be a problem if they didn’t. So I shouldn’t be afraid to say something dumb or something I’ll regret in the future. It opens up room for growth and learning.

If I didn’t write because I was afraid of saying something dumb... well then I’d just be keeping those dumb thoughts to myself and stay dumb. Being dumb and working to be smarter is much more admirable than choosing not to be dumb, and staying dumb. 

I also used to not use the word I so much. My blog posts were full of ideas. Concepts and issues people could relate to. At some point I became very self-absorbed and things became all about me. But the truth of the matter is I am not very interesting. However the book I read, or the idea in that article or the way that video was shot - these are interesting things. If I want to be a better writer, I need to stop using I so much.

[thedarlingabigail]

I sit here telling people what happened and their immediate reactions are to come to my side and attack you with hurtful words and even threaten physical harm and I sit there in hurt… as much as it is from you it is also from the people who think they are helping me. If they knew me, truly, they would know that the farthest thing I stand from his hurting you in anyway; physically, mentally, emotionally, even spiritually. I hurt because the love that I want to give is consistently flowing from my heart and it never will stop because of what has happened. I hurt because the first reaction to being hurt should not to be hurt back but to love more. Although it is hard to love, when were ever told that life gets easier? better yet when did we start believing and living that ideal that life gets easy… I live to fulfill his plan for me and through that give Him all the glory in the end. Do I have peace about what is happening in my life…yes. Do i know what is going to happen next…no. Has God shown me what I need to see and allow me to know something that you do not…maybe. I say these things not to scare the ones around me but I say this to encourage myself and to remind you that I hurt for now but it will not last and that I will not let this hurt affect the rest of what I have to do. This next time is meant for God to show me why I am truly here and what his dreams are for me; to uncover my true passions and to taking the next step…being reminded that being selfish is okay.

[observemyodyssey]

Beach House (Excerpt) by Chris Reamer

I awoke to the same, god-awful screaming that I was cursed with every morning. The fact that the tone of my alarm clock was identical in almost every way to the sound which buzzes into the ears of everyone who has ever watched an episode of “Jeopardy!” drag on until they must cut to commercial, notifying the contestants with a series of two, tri-tone bells which may very well have been hanging from some hellhound’s neck judging by reaction to hearing them, whether I was in my bed or on my couch. Most people can snap from the deepest sleep into some kind of alarm clock assassin within a remarkable amount of time, slamming down on their plastic exteriors with such brute force. The fact that they haven’t been completely destroyed is almost captivating enough to awaken one’s mind without the clock in the first place. Almost.

            I entertained the thought of simply not existing today. Not morbidly, but much in the way that a CBS Christmas-Special elf may decide that he wants to run away from the making toys for Santa and follow his dreams of becoming a dentist. I thought about not being a part of the whole world and just existing in mine. The problem being that I had no interest in the not-so-pearly-whites of little Billy Slackjaw or his father’s lack-there-of. I had very little interest in anything today.

            Had the awful plastic box not woken me up than the rain surely would have. The drops seemed to fall upon my window and roof like there was some blood feud waging between my shingles and the clouds. Perhaps it was my roof’s fault in the end and the clouds just wanted religious freedom or the cloud’s had heard my roof was storing WMD’s. I still find it hard to believe that even though we get rained on for 10 months out of the year, people bitch about missing the cold, wet, shivery, slippery mess that we call a state when the sun decides to peak through those capitalist clouds for a small section of late July.