#writers corner

[roselyn-writing]

I’m getting bored of writing in ‘notes’ do you guys have alternatives, not just bored. Sometimes notes would lag due to many notes tabs I have..

[joelismyserotonin]

When I’ve reached out to writers for advice and I’m just sitting here like…

[joelismyserotonin]

“Hi guys! I’m nearly done with part three, it’s coming I promise blah blah blah…..

…..also, while in the shower I thought of an entirely new fic that I’m going to start writing tonight!”🙄😂

What’s wrong with us?😂I know I’m not alone here🤩

[staticinthemargin]

The university café hums with its usual mid-morning soundtrack – the clatter of ceramic mugs hitting saucers, the low-key chatter of sleep-deprived students, seeking their next caffeine fix and the occasional hiss from the coffee machine like it’s releasing a sigh it’s been holding since dawn. In the corner closest to the big window, Zara has settled into her usual spot. Her table looks less like a study space and more like a small encampment - a nest maybe. Laptop open at a sharp angle, the charging cable wrapped around her before snaking backward to the wall; textbooks sprawled like they’ve been tossed there by some academic whirlwind; highlighters lying like dropped spears and pencils… so many pencils littering the table - as if she’s scared she might run out. Her hood’s up despite the warmth, cinched just enough that only her nose and the slope of her cheek are visible.

She sways in tiny motions, earphones funneling some beat only she can hear – something fast, probably, judging by the small tapping of her fingers on the laptop’s surface and the way her shoulders are moving. The scent of white hot chocolate drifts from her mug: sugary, velvety, with the faint bite of overheated milk. She inhales it as though it might recharge her. She clutches the cup now and then, without drinking, as if warming her hands.

Ash watches her from the queue, wiping the rain from his face and clutching a book like it might anchor him. She comes here so often she might as well have her own reserved plaque. He wonders, not for the first time, if she’s chosen that corner because it feels sheltered… or because the hustle makes her feel alone in a comfortable way. She’s always alone. Her nest, always set up the same way. Except the books. The books change. He hasn’t worked out what she’s studying yet. Philosophy? Psychology? Languages? Education? Could be any of them.

He could talk to her. That was a theoretical possibility. People did that sometimes – approached strangers, exchanged words, didn’t combust. But she looks so busy, he tells himself. Or focused. Or barricaded. Or maybe all three. He tries to catch her eye, but she’s lost in her music, a ship sailing in a sea of noise without noticing the lighthouse staring in her direction. He really wants to talk to her. He wonders what her voice sounds like. What her eyes look like. How someone could possibly need that many books.

He reaches the front of the queue and orders a tea – bag left in. He glances towards the girl by the window and watches and she pulls her hood down. Blue. Her eyes are blue. So blue. Her hair is longer than he’d thought. She’s pretty in a way that’s easily missed unless you’re looking and Ash is definitely looking. He pulls himself back to his tea, adds milk and sugar, leaves the bag to stew. Putting the lid back on his cup, he takes a breath, picks up his book from the side, and walks straight over to the girl by the window.

[aseriesofsmallthings]

New Year; New Writing Goals

Hello and Happy New Year all!

With the start of the new year, and even more aspirations for my writing career, I figured I'd try to outline some goals I'd like to achieve in 2026 both for more accountability and also as a way to keep track and reflect back on at the end of the year.

2026 Goals

Finish the first draft of my WIP

I recently made some breakthroughs with my wip that feel a lot more promising this time around than it ever has before, so I want to dedicate much more time to it this year and see it at least a little closer to publication.

Upload more short stories to Substack

I have so many that are in the process of being edited ready to publish there, I just need to make a push to actually finish them off and do so rather than just keeping them hidden away.

Enter into more writing competitions

I've only ever submitted a handful of works into competitions before and I always say I'll submit to more but never actually get round to it. I want to make a conscious effort to seek them out and write/submit something fresh for them this year. Perhaps I'll even win one?

Submit to at least one magazine

This is something I've never done before. The idea always seemed so daunting and though I've come close a couple times, it's something I've always found excuses not to for. I'd really like to prove to myself that it doesn't have to be so scary, and, even if it doesn't really lead anywhere, I think it would be a nice thing to achieve regardless.

Read 20 books

In recent years my reading habits have dwindled significantly and I'd really like to get back to how I used to be in that respect. I find that my motivation for writing increases greatly the more I read, and reading intentionally as a writer really helps me level up my own work too. Managing 20 books isn't so much a challenge as to be unobtainable, but it's enough for it to be an achievement.

I did steal this idea from another blog, although I've forgotten who (sorry!), so thank you to them and I hope they don't mind! (I will look back through my saves and see if I can find them to tag later.) I'd love to hear some of your goals for the new year, and wish you all luck in achieving them.

Here's to 2026, hopefully a year to be filled with lots of writing, reading and creativity for all of us 🤍

[thecosmicmasculine]

MASQUERADE PARADE

The show is over, the audience applauds

The actors take their bows; those imposters and frauds

Like soldiers they align, obediently they walk

With mechanical movements, like the ticking of a clock. 

For a brief moment silence hovers, and the room is still

Stunned by the profound talent and skill...

But then the curtain closes, and the lights fade out

The audience begins to cheer and shout

ENCORE! ENCORE!

The people want more...

They beg and they plead

Drama, chaos and confusion is what they need

The actors were tired; they had nothing left to give

But performing is the reason they live.

So those faceless beings return once more

Dancing and spinning until theyre dead on the floor

Blood and tears escape their remains

They gave and gave, but it was all in vain 

What fools, these human voids be

For there's one thing that they all failed to see

Behind the mask they were all the same

Not realizing they were victims of their own selfish games. 

The audience claps and cheers, thinking it's all part of the show

Their ignorance keeps them blind 

Their minds will never grow.

Row by row they get up to leave

Reminiscing happily, leaving no room to grieve

Those poor performers who gave their heart and soul

Didn't realize it would take a fatal toll

Alas, that's the end

Of our masquerade parade

And the former identities that were mysteriously conveyed.

©Transcendintoeuphoria

[originalheroluck]