A Writers Daily Blog

A simple blog about the every day life of an aspiring writer.

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The worst part about wanting to be a writer, for me, is that I have no fucking clue where to start! crying face 😑😭

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3-30-2023

When one is struggling to understand the meaning of life or the purpose to strive towards. Just remember that almost everyone is in the same place with their lives and you are not alone. 

If you want to be alone, you never will be. 

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11-9-2022

A dying fire

Crick, crack! The smoldering wood snaps to the flame. It’s dark and the wind chills his skin only a little bit. The night was silent except for the crackling fire in front of him. He wasn’t meant to be there, he wasn’t supposed to be there, he should be dead right now.

Crick! The fire snapped one last time. He had a glass bottle in his hands, it was dark and had no lid. The only light was from the fire, it made his face look more weathered and deeper than it was, a man of 35 turned nearly fifty by the flames. Now stained with tears as he looked at me, on the ground not far from the fire that was now no more than a match light. I could only watch as he walked over to me and placed my head with my body in the shallow grave next to the now dead fire. He didn’t close my eyes, didn’t say any last words, it was silent when he swept the ashes of our wedding photo into my grave. Silent as the night I poisoned him and left for this camping trip with my lover now beside me.

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7-19-2022

“oh” she says in surprise as the man leans in towards her, his breath hot on her lips “what are you doing?” she asks. He doesn’t say anything, she can only guess at what he’s thinking, but the fire in his eyes and the way he’s looking at her makes her knees weak and heart pound. 

I see this all the time, the romance and sexual tension and suspension. It’s all anyone wants to read because it elicits a physical response in the readers. I’ve never found it to be exciting, nor have I ever wanted to. It might simply be an anatomical deficiency that I have, or it might be simple a preference of taste. One will never know. 

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These last few days haven’t been much to write about. Frankly I’ve forgotten to write. The emotional turmoil of drama is not one such thing I’m versed to deal with on an average basis. But life goes on and so do you. 

My basil is beginning to spring into full bushes, it’s amazing how such a small thing can become so big and I’m so proud of it. Even when I’m gone, plants continue to live because I’m just a spec in their lives. But even that tiny spec can impact oneself for the better. 

My Love and I are preparing to build our new house, it’s going to take a while, but we’re excited. I’ve been looking for a second job to help with the expenses, sadly it is no longer the 1980s, it is nearly impossible to support a family on only one person’s income. It is a step for the betterment of change for humanity, I just wish I could stay at home if I wished. Now doesn’t that sounds lazy? 

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5-29-2022

The heat of these past few days has been melting away my will to write, live and to do anything outside. The summer months are usually the time of new beginnings and fun in the sun, but for me it is a constant reminder of my inadequate nature and excess fat. 

Even my basil is wilting under the sun when there is no shade, the poor thing is at its fullest in the early morning, before the sun comes out. I need to make sure to keep it in the shade before it dries out. 

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5-25-2022

Domesticated activities intrigues me on a regular basis. I do like to keep a home a house and my spouse worry-free of the household chores. It gives me time to think, move and keep with my personal goals of the day. 

Most women when I talk to about this subject, especially of my own age group, are appalled; it’s like I’m a traitor to women for having these thoughts. They disregard my sayings once the words “I like” followed with anything resembling “housewife” or “house keeping” pass my lips. It’s not “my job” because I am a woman, it’s my job because I know my children will need structure in their lives and early years. Because I know how to make a building a home with memories. How to decorate certain areas to seem less like four walls, to make it a space of peace and love. Because a home cooked meal at the end of a tiring day for both work and school is much more appealing than simply paying extra for empty calories without the love or care. 

I appreciate and look forward to the gratitude I get from my spouse every morning when I hand him his cup of coffee and his face lights up, despite his tired eyes. The appreciation and respect from him when I’ve hemmed the holes in his shirt from the day before. The way he relaxes when he comes into the door and takes his shoes off when I greet him. And him always giving me a kiss before he leaves for the day. 

It’s not much thought to most women I’ve talked to about this subject, frankly they never cared for it or to talk about it; it’s as if it is an injustice to women everywhere to even consider it. 

I don’t care if I am one of the only few that do enjoy domesticated life, despite my age and lack of knowledge on the subject; I only wish that most women wouldn’t consider it grounds for terminating friendships to those that don’t believe the same. 

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5-24-2022

I finished the story of Bethlehem Road; it was an interesting read, to say the least. The setting was 1888 London, England and the mood was that of social justifications and the suffrage of women in this era. I, personally, loved the dynamic between the main character, Inspector Thomas Pitt and his wife, Charolette Pitt. Inspector Pitt was the main investigator on the personal side of the murders, all similar and all to members of Parliament that looked similar in features and body. The story is fascinating on the social concepts and the point of views are done in a way it’s both understandable and not too detailed to be muddled. 

I recommend reading this if you are a fan of the Agatha Christie styled books or her book themselves. 

I’m excited to start another book, I can’t be the only one that feels like a wonderer with no destination in my train of thoughts when in between books, can I? 

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5-22-2022

Sundays here are considered holy days, or days for holy worship. Unlike most days, here in the States, most people go to church, pray and incite the holy spirit. They praise God as the one and only and the bringer of happiness in their lives, not knowing they brought it in themselves. 

But I am not a holy woman. 

I take Sundays to relax, it’s my only day to sleep in you know, and do nothing in particular. I enjoy my domestic duties, contrary to popular belief, especially enjoying the reactions from the family to my home-cooked dinner. These days are for reading on the porch midday, playing video games for hours in the afternoon, cleaning the conscious of most thoughts, entertaining the children for a while and maybe go out and get a book to read for the next month. 

Sundays are days of peace and engorging on the everyday fruits of life. Just for  a day. 

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I paused The Secret History; hopefully Bethlehem Road is as intriguing as the summary suggests it to be.

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5-20-2022

It has been years since I’ve last been in a library. Since the last year of high school, I have been in the habit of buying my books to read at my leisure. I’ve accumulated a desk and a study to do my work and learn from those books. 

Today I decided to try something different and get out of the house and I don’t regret anything. I hope to go back and enjoy the aesthetic as well as the atmosphere of lifelong devotion to books and imagination. 

I’ve recently started reading The Secret Society by Donna Tartt, being surrounded by books, with a pen and journal in my hand and almost basking in the sunlight from the windows made me understand the appeal for academia. I only wish I could have the devotion to learning as Henry does during the early morning hours at the country house. 

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5-19-2022

What is the feeling one has when they can’t do anything right? Is it self-loathing? Is it guilt of failure? Is it hopelessness of oneself? Can someone work against such feelings? Would it be the right choice? 

What about the feeling one has when everything in their life, at that moment, is going well? Does it ruin the feeling to be suspicious of such good fortune? Do most feel guilt in such fortune? 

Feelings are amazing to think about, no one actually knows how many there are, what they do specifically to every person and just how powerful they can be. I can only imagine how the strong-willed people live controlling such things. 

Today, my feelings were obsolete and unknown. It was almost foreign how they were behind glass and I could see them, but not touch them. Is this why true poets are so good at their work? Never being able to feel but to see and describe it in such ways? 

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5-18-2022

I was going to go to the library today. Maybe work on my outline and get some progress before my test tomorrow morning. But one of my cats brought her one-month old kittens from hiding for us to see.

It was a marvelous day to enjoy the company of baby kittens.

I sat on the porch with my cat and her kittens through the spring heat of the day. The poor girl panting her heart away sitting next to a big bowl of water I had recently put out for her; her two of three kittens latched onto her seemingly unbothered by the temperature. I simply sat and watched. The strangely familiar allure of new life is always a fascination to me, I wonder sometimes why babies are always the cutest compared to anything else. But that is a conversation for another day.

The hot sun was nearly unbearable outside of the shade, makes anyone miss the cold mornings of the winter months. I wonder. Who will see their first winter this year?

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5-17-2022

My nightmares kept me awake most of the night, and for that today has not been as productive as I would like. But I got some work done, cleaned the house and made a nice dinner. 

I might go to the library tomorrow to work on my novel’s outline. I know Stephen King would be appalled by my use of an outline if he ever knew. I’ve never written a book before, but I think it wouldn’t be too sore on the eyes to read; at least at first. 

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Cleanliness is next to godliness

Do you ever wonder why you’re here in your life? The slow creeping feeling emanating from your chest as you begin to see things differently, does it frighten you? 

When someone begins to feel this way, it’s as if nothing matters in the universe, let alone in your own life. It eats at you like the insanity eats at mental patients; slow and gradually creeping into your soul as you age only a few years, or it builds up and you turn your cheek until it’s too much to ignore. 

It’s similar to bedrooms, if you think about it. 

Imagine this; your on your phone in your room and leave a cup on your desk one day. It’s no big deal, what’s one cup going to do? So you leave it on your desk to bother you another day, and a few more days go by. 

It’s been a month since that day, now there’s a dish for every day sitting somewhere in the room, in odd places, on every even surface you don’t use, on the floor by the bed, and now the final dish is a single cup on your desk. It seemed only a mere few minutes since the first cup was placed, now it’s a mess of a room. Looking at the room now makes your heart sink ever so slightly, the added disappointment to yourself makes the already bad day worse, as if you fortune never favors you.

I didn’t have that feeling today. 

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Late Morning

Awake around two in the afternoon, the air conditioner blowing freezing chills down my spine, and my lover softly kissing my face. It was a beautiful way to begin the last part of the day. 

Today is different than most days, for today I am not sad. I am simply coping. It is a nice feeling, one that one doesn’t express much. It is also a heavy feeling, one that resembles a thick jacket on a light day. The feeling isn’t in my chest like the books always tell, it’s everywhere. 

I lift my fingers and wrists to write these words, yet they feel like stone. It’s not unbearable, simply uncomfortable and tiring. I reach for my coffee with my stone bones, my knuckles feel as they should be oiled, my throat numb to everything my tongue dreams of, and yet, once the dark liquid touches my teeth I feel a slight give in the heavy feeling. My back became lighter and I can now sit properly straight. 

Today is a nice day.