#writingdaily

[glitterunicorn-444]

Today I didn’t write.

I just lay in bed, listened to music, and let my characters live in my head for a while. No pressure, no progress, just thoughts, scenes, and quiet imagination.

Maybe not every day has to look productive to still matter.

[redinkkz]

Every unforgettable novel, screenplay, or character started as a messy note in someone’s notebook. ✍️📓

A writer’s notebook isn’t just paper — it’s where plot twists are born, dialogue comes alive, and future bestsellers begin.

As a beta reader and book editor, I can tell you this: The writers who grow the fastest are the ones who capture ideas before they disappear.

Write the random scene. Save the strange dialogue. Keep the character idea. Your next masterpiece could be hiding in your notes.

What’s currently living inside your writer’s notebook? 👀

[writelikefools2021]

maga - Uncle Scooter - day 6

We lost you some eighteen years ago this week (my father’s Facebook page reminds me). As a child I would sit in the high-backed wood swivel chairs, my feet not touching the carpet, my tiny face lit up by the flashing, rarefied gases coming from the tubes above your head. In your life you worked in the Navy, in the hotel business, at the Elk’s Lodge, and finally as a greeter at the local Walmart. But the best job you ever had, you said, was owning your own bar. “Eight years,” you said. Brandy Manhattans 18 cents for a shot of brandy (“being a good bartender you give ‘em two shots” you said), 10 cents for vermouth: “that’s a 50 cent drink I made a $1.50 profit from,” and then you told me how you’d gone into the Pizzeria Uno recently and that same drink cost $5.25. You told the manager that with drink prices like that, he wouldn’t last. Within weeks the place had drink specials and happy hours. “I get things done,” you said. The workers at Walmart always seemed so unhappy, you said. You’d ask how they were doing and they’d shrug, offer up a low-spoken, downward-cadenced, ‘I’m here’. You couldn’t believe the sadness in their eyes, you said. You wrote to the execs about it, you said. “I could give a shit if they cut two hours off my time, but these are young people, with families to feed. I mean, we get two semi-loads of crap every goddamn day and they’re cutting back hours?” You hadn’t heard back from them yet. “What do I know? Some 75 year old curmudgeon? I know a hell of a lot,” you said, “I know about taking care of your employees so they enjoy coming to work in the morning and want to do right by you. I know about making an honest buck and not ripping customers off so they don’t trust you. All this distrust building in the air. Can’t you feel it?” you said. Grandpa, you left too much broken in the world, “don’t forget me,” you said, Grandpa, you left too much undone, “don’t leave me behind” you said -

[devingalaudet]

(Writing Daily with Devin)

[lg-louise]

WARNING!! WRITER!!

[raisahaque]

surrender to what’s yours 💫

[sparkandashes]

I hate being around anyone. I want to be around you and what kills me the most is that I can't do that.

Life seems meaningless without you.

—sparkandashes via tumblr

[theinfinitetales]

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