#writingthoughts

[brainstreams]

A sentence can be beautiful and still hurt the story. The same goes for some people in your life.

[silentstina]

I sometimes write fic with dark/hard themes, but I never used to consider them dark, just real. Now I wonder if any of my fics ever rubbed a reader the wrong way. I apologize to any reader who has ever read one of my stories and wished they hadn’t.

[athenanfaymont]

The Quiet Between Chapters 🤫

Sometimes I catch myself feeling bad when a new chapter gets fewer comments than the previous one, or none at all. It’s not about the numbers, not really. It’s about that strange silence after you’ve poured a piece of yourself into something and it just… disappears into the void. You refresh the page once, twice, three times... hoping for a sign that someone out there felt something, anything. But the quiet stays.

Writing fanfiction has always felt like being part of something shared: a little corner of the internet where stories are gifts, not products. A place built on love for the source material, on excitement, on connection. But lately, I can’t help worrying that the fanfic community is starting to feel like the service sector: someone creates, someone consumes, and that’s the end of it. No real conversation, no shared joy. Just quiet transactions that leave both sides emptier.

It’s a lonely feeling, the kind that makes you wonder if people are still reading with their hearts, or just scrolling for something to fill the silence in their own rooms. I don’t want to measure my worth in comments, but I miss when stories felt like dialogues instead of broadcasts. When readers left a line or two, not just as praise, but as proof that the connection was real, that someone had been there, and felt something too.

I guess I just miss when fandom felt like community (messy, warm, full of chats) and not like a platform where creators quietly serve and audiences quietly consume.

_____

Despite all this, and although I have experienced a drop in comments between chapters, I'm fortunate to currently have a small group of kind readers who send me very high-quality comments (300 words per comment? Marry me!). But I see the difference between visits and comments and I wonder why a reader would read 8000 words and have nothing to say. I always have something to say hahaha

[imunbreakabledude]

(i promise i do not mean the following in a mean way, as I appreciate people's creations & also recognize there are soooo many skills that go into game design and hacking that are hard and that I don't have)

but wow there is nothing like playing fan-made game hacks to make you feel more confident in your own writing cuz like. i dunno. it feels like just writing casual dialogue is one of the easiest building block skills in the world but a lot of people just like. can't write average filler dialogue for games that sounds normal. like. it's hard to explain why. it's not like official pokemon games are like, the most indepth incredible character arcs and witty dialogue and shit. but when you play fan games with original dialogue and story (or experience the few new bits of dialogue in modified vanilla games) it's just like so jarring

[claystrawberry]

to be a deep thinker is beautiful and a curse at the same time. good because you mean well, however, all the thoughts going in your mind makes you question which goes right and wrong. in the end, you’re still unsure of the choices you made then you have to re evaluate everything you just said and done.

[thebookishlydiaries]

Black & White thinking

Lately I've been watching lots of old school style videos and one of them caught my interest because I feel like it refers to how I think and how some of you may think too.

Black & White was the title of the video. It spoke about how people often think about things as it being either Black or White and the grey area in between isn’t really seen at all.

One of the references used to explain it was Jean Valjean from Les Miserables, who very much sees the grey area since he steals, but steals to save his sister's starving child, whereas Javert sees it in black and white, it's just stealing for him, end of.

I definitely think like Javert in terms of thinking about what I’m good at which is terrible. I always think I’m either really good at something or really terrible (usually the latter) and it’s awful. Thinking that way destroys me from the inside out and then I manage to hide it from everyone I care about.

And you want to know the worst part of it?

I’m used to it. I’m used to thinking mainly negatively, not breaking things down into smaller sections. I literally do it every day, seeing myself in the mirror, singing, dancing, acting (very musical theatre related I know), I think about everything as either good or bad, right or wrong, black or white.

And I really need to change it, and if you read this and thought, you just described me, then you need to rethink it like I am now. I just described my negative mindset, that I am so used to now that I think nothing of it, until someone else said something to me about it.

So now I’m saying something to you.

[coldeyesandredlips]

And, and how do I describe this feeling within my chest every time I see such beautiful work of art, poetry, someone's thoughts and music? How do I describe this beautiful feeling blossoming in my heart, every time I see Haruki Murakami's and Oscar Wilde's, and Beau Taplin's works? How do I tone down this insane urge to learn and understand every beautiful thing I come across? How do I teach myself to not forget to breathe every time I see words that fill in the void that lingers inside me?

I am not even ashamed to say this, all that I am made up of is—someone's poetry and beautiful thoughts and someone's art, and stories from writers and beautiful music. This is what is holding me up, and oh, let's not forget to add in books, and rain. And some deep sadness inside of me that I never have understood.

I don't understand this feeling, but deep down, I am too afraid to name it, or let it go.

[docudiariesunlocked]

Genius X.

Genius, such a genius I am for falling in love with you.

Genius, you made me feel amazing, ethereal, it’s been so long since we’ve been over and, why...why do I still feel gross, hideous?

I’m actually jealous.

It’s really been 6 years apart huh?

And I still think about the good, the bad, the raw and real whatevership we had.

I drag the memories along like a leashed dog, like a Russian doll.

You’d think I’d be over it by now huh?

Your sign is a goat, but you ain’t the GOAT.

I’m mad.

Every lover after you, couldn’t even get as close to you.

I’m upset that I was ready to give you all of me, and you were just posting up a quarter.

Was that all I was worth?

So many obstacles could’ve been avoided, so many issues could’ve been resolved.

I understand you couldn’t do everything but you used to mean everything to me.

All I have left are these memories that haunt me when I’m sealed away in my room.

Too many assumptions were made, and I wish you told me that night that you didn’t like me.

I could’ve slept better at night.

Genius, you are.

When you hit me up after the 4th year, I asked you if we could see each other.

I just wanted to talk to you, you couldn’t even give me that.

You shouldn’t have messaged me.

I believe I’m emotionally unstable, emotionally insane.

And it’s not just you, it’s everything that came after you.

Now, I need to go to the holy land and cleanse myself.

Suffocate my soul in holy water.

I no longer want these memories of you anymore.

I don’t want to see you anymore, the way I used to before.

I never needed you, my emotions felt like it did though.

I’m not mad, I’m not angry.

Simply over this agony, in need of a real redemption and praying for an epiphany.

I cannot live in the dark blue ocean anymore, I’ll turn into something I’m not.

I wish nothing had stopped you for completely loving me, but you’ve taught me a life lesson.

Put your priorities first, then as value to them.

I could either cry about this forever, or move on and forget it even happened.

I’ll play one last song, that’ll remind me of you.

After today, it’ll be for myself and whoever wants me forever.

You were my X to my O, but you’re simply just an X.

Genius.