#writerlydays

[writerlydays]

When reading erotica, what do you like to read? What are your favorite tropes, kinks, etc. ?

[gloomwriter-blog]

The Man in My Head

I lift my eyebrows and the little man sitting across me mimicks my movement. He has scraggly hair and a gold tooth. My head tilts to the side and he follows my movement. I laugh quietly and his laughter drowns my quiet whimpers into silence. I cry. He slaps me on the face. My head whips to the side. He turns his back on me. I wish he would go away.

I stare across the room to the magnificent mirror adorning my wall. My pallor face stares back. There are dark circles under my lacklustre green eyes. The baggy clothes hanging on my scrawny frame give me the appearance of a scarecrow. I bite my tongue and look away.

I hear my mom call me for dinner. Her voice echoes in the silence of my mind as I make my way downstairs. Photographs of my brother and me adorn the edges of the staircase. I feel like a delicate passerby as I walk down the stairs. I can imagine the happy memories floating into each other. Isolating time. Creating a void through which no happiness can escape.

The void fills me up. It weaves patterns with the sounds of laughter. The patterns dance across my exterior. They breathe life into my brother. His voice carrying me across the world and to the past. It’s a beautiful escape. And one that gives me my brother back.

My mother’s reprimanding voice cracks through the void sharply. I enter the kitchen to see my parents staring at me reproachfully, sucking the happiness coating my crumbling body. I remember that my brother is an institute for attempting suicide. My shoulders hunch. My eyes droop. My face crumbles. I am disgusted at my fragility. I scream.

It escapes me in a hush of strong wind, the sound pumps me with strength and I pull the table cloth on which dinner is set. Chaos ensues. The spaghetti dish plunks to the floor and the glasses and plates and forks rattle against each other before flying and crashing against the wall. This jarring melody gives a voice to the cracking silence of my heart breaking. I think I’m still screaming. I want my parents to actually look at me. I am in pain. I want my parents to see that. I need them.

My parents look at me with anger and disgust. Its the way I look at myself in the mirror. I hope I’m wrong but I think that my parents hate me the way I hate myself.

I look out the window and I can imagine that little man with his scraggly hair and gold teeth staring at me angrily. He is too far away to slap me. He shakes his head at me. His frown deepens. Then a pause. His lips move. I feel devastated. My lips start moving of their own accord and painfully morph into a smile, the screams skidding against the walls of my mind fading into silence. I have lost.

My parents are still staring at me. My tantrum only lasted a few seconds. It felt like an eternity. They keep staring at me as if I’ve gone crazy. I allow myself to ebb into the emptiness of the silence surrounding us. My brother is gone. Everyone knows it is my fault. I stare out the window at the little man. My only companion is the man in my head. I feel a little better.

[kclenhartnovels]

Tagged by @writerlydays

The rules are simple: Post the first line of your WIP (or a line you’re particularly proud of) without context, then tag as many people as there are words in the line–or until you run out of people to tag if it’s long! If you don’t have a WIP, share a line from one of your favorite books! 

If the Adalaine’s Promise could talk, it would only tell one story.

@seeingteacupsindragons @thebibliosphere @brynwrites @wchwriter @crow-bait @splanchna @teashoesandhair @maxkirin @kumoxsama @cptbartolomeo @barbaricyip @paradoxicaldickery

[writerlydays]

a character in any media: obviously in love with their significant other

me, sobbing: that's good content,,

[writerlydays]

tips for writing more

As someone with adhd I have a lot of trouble being productive and staying focused. This year i’ve developed a few techniques that have really helped me write more!

Write for a set amount of time Every day I write for one hour. Sometimes I don’t write much, other times I write a lot. What’s important is that I have one hour every day to sit down and do it. Making it a habit is important! Also, the fact that I have a set end point helps me to focus. 

Have a writing space I never seem to be able to focus as well when i’m writing from bed. Now what I do is I have a table in the living room, and I go there to write. That’s what I do there, and when I sit down at that table, it puts me in the mindset to write. 

Have writing music I have playlists for certain stories! Personally I have to listen to ones that are soft and mostly instrumental. When I listen to the playlist, I know it’s time to write!

Have a writing candle This one might be a personal thing, but I like to have a scent associated with a task. 

anyone else have specific things they do that help them focus or be productive?

[writerlydays]

I adore writing, my soul burns with it. When i’m not writing, i’m thinking about writing. When I’m not doing that, i’m thinking about stories. I am, and have always been, stories in the shape of a person. 

[writerlydays]

I need more writeblrs to follow!

with so many people leaving tumblr for other platforms, my dash has gone pretty dead and i’m having a lot of trouble finding content to reblog. 

reblog this if you:

are primarily a writing blog

are a book blog

post writing resources

post writing tips

post about your own stories/ocs/etc.

[writerlydays]

villians who become reluctant heroes because they LIKE the world, thank you very much. They don’t want to end it, they don’t want Armageddon, because they LIKE ice cream and restaurants and causing trouble.