@dearwriting / dearwriting.tumblr.com
I'm so excited to be starting this blog. I did create this around last year but I am going to start posting more often. Around last year, I started to explore the world of poetry and fell completely in love with it. I also started to explore writing my own original story, "The price of perfection" which you can check out on Wattpad. It's still an ongoing in the works novel, but if you can or have the time to check it out that would be great.
My Wattpad account is @Sweetheart5255
I love it when people take fic writing seriously. I love when it's not 'Here's this dumb thing I wrote' and instead it's 'Here's this thing I put blood, sweat and tears into. Here's this thing I slaved away at, trying new writing techniques and editing over and over. Here's this dialogue that kept me awake at night. Here's this beautiful turn of phrase I thought up. Here's this thing that I wrote with vulnerability and heart, and I am proud to share it with you.'
2. Most of my stories, I prefer to write from a narrator's perspective, but I don’t know how to give characters depth or an inside look at how they feel or mentally and emotionally react to something.
here is an example I think show good narration:
Hunter adjusts his seatbelt, gripping the steering wheel, trying to navigate through airport traffic.
He looks over to Savannah who is leaning her head against the wall, listening to the music playing on the radio softly in the background, trying to forget that her world has changed completely.
He opens his mouth to talk to her, and say anything that can help, but nothing comes out. So instead, he tries to focus on getting home and preparing himself to talk with the detectives.
3.How do I move my characters of give them actions without it sounding like I am just giving the directions?
For examples, I feel like I write like this.
Sally and Mark are standing outside in the rain. They are arguing about why he has not asked her to be his date to prom. She pushes him to get away and turns to run away, He follows behind her to continue the conversation and grabs a hold of her hand. She looks at him, he looks at her.
EX2:
Amy walked downstairs to the kitchen to get something to eat for breakfast. She goes to the cabinet to get a bowl, then walks to the pantry to get cereal. She then goes to the fridge to get milk, but there is none. Turning around she notices, her brother sitting at the the table, with an empty carton of milk next to him and a full bowl of cereal in front of him
I feel like it sounds like character A moves here and then character B does this and moves this way and Character A then looks at B like this and then B looks at A like that.
If you can answer at least one question that would be of great help.
“I’m writing,” I say as I pace around my room listening to the same song for the 19th time, daydreaming about the general *vibe* of my story.
I don't know if it's just me, but are you ever writing and all of a sudden you forget what words, or a sentence is?
“you’re a writer, can you explain your process?” yes. first, i panic. then i procrastinate. then, in a fit of productivity at 3 a.m., i create chaos.
I'm trying to write a fanfiction for Daemon Targaryen. Like I made the outline and everything, but I can't for the life of me know how i want to introduce my characters or start my first chapter.
A poetry collection about a girl who struggles with mental illnesses and those around her do not know how to help her or only make it worse. Each poem, although some darker than others, perfectly encapsulates how somber and intrusive her thoughts are when they try to take control over her mind, body, and soul. Join her as she goes through transformations and stages of these illnesses and dark thoughts.
@sweetheart5255
Dakota Barnes the 3-time Emmy award-winning actress, who is most known for her iconic role as “Josie Lockhart” from the famous 90s sitcom, “Perfectly Priced?” has tragically died this past week on the set of the 2019 reboot of the beloved TV series. She leaves behind an 18-year-old daughter, Savannah Barnes, Mccoy. Sources say she was found dead on the set of the beloved show set, with something wrapped around her neck. Some suspect it was an accident, but something much more sinister might exist.
@Sweetheart5255
is it even writing if i don’t spend half the time googling random facts that are only vaguely related to the story
I like night time
It’s quiet
The only thing I can hear
Is my music playing
In my ears
Filling the silence
And putting my thoughts
To sleep
Or at least keeping the not so good ones away.
Before I’m gone tell them
I lived
I fell in love
Saw the world
I overcame my anxiety and fears
I helped make the world a better place
I danced, laughed, cried
I survived.
It was the first day of fall. You could tell because of the leaves that covered the sidewalk, in different shades of orange, green and red.
There was a house at the end of this cozy neighborhood. In that home, lived a young woman named Bethany but she preferred to be called beth.
And she loved fall, it was her favorite time of year, mostly because it complimented her features. She had long brown hair and light brown eyes that looked like roasted chestnuts. It was also because she liked her solitude and cuddling up on her favorite reading chair with a nice warm cup of cocoa.
On every 1st day of fall for the past 5 yrs, she would follow this sort of ritual.
Wake up, go about her day, run her errands but at night is when the real ritual began. She would have a cup of hot cocoa and a slice of pumpkin bread that she got from the bakery in town, then she would get dressed into this exact outfit: messy bun, black tights, and pull on a cream-colored turtleneck sweater, and sit on her reading chair. Then she would put on her favorite record, “Bella Donna” by Stevie nicks.
As the music started to play in the background, she would check on the wood that burned in her fireplace. Then she would sit back and watch the flames dance and create little shadows and she would feel warm.
However, tonight the ritual would be different. Her cream colored turtleneck wouldn’t be cream, it would be red. Her pumpkin bread and hot cocoa would cover the carpet in different shades of brown and dark orange crumbs. The dancing flames would stop creating shadows and she would feel cold.
I didn’t mean to do it. I just wanted to feel what she felt, to enjoy the first day of fall like she did for the past 5 years, to experience the fall ritual. I wanted to listen to her favorite record, taste the hot cocoa, and eat the pumpkin bread she got from
my bakery.
She was asleep. Well she was supposed to be, if her parents knew she was awake they would have told her to.
If only they checked on her, but her mama was tired from taking care of the chickens and her papa was tired from preparing for the upcoming winter. The adults in their small village town were saying how the winter was going to be much more different than the last. So the whole family had to work extra hard this season.
If only they checked on her, they would have noticed that she left her window open. She was the second born out of 7 children and was slowly blossoming into a young woman.
However, one thing that always remained was her ever growing curiosity. Her mother used to say that she would have grown wings and flew away like the birds or turned herself into one of those pretty yellow flowers by the creek if she could.
Which is why the window was open, so she could not only see the pretty yellow flowers, but also feel the cold, crisp air that lightly touched her cheeks and made her quietly giggle.
Oooohhhhooooohhh toooottllle lloooo tooootlle looooo
It repeated. At first, she thought sleep was overcoming her, but then she heard it again, louder this time
OOOoooohhh Ttttooooottllle llloooo
Her curiosity grew. It was the most beautiful thing that she ever heard. Her eyes combed across to the trees, the fields, the barn, but she couldn’t see anything until her eyes traveled back to the small creek.
She felt drawn to it and it almost sounded like it told her to come and play. She wrapped her shawl over her white nightdress, put on her slippers and quiet like a mouse, went down stairs.
She paused, when she heard her parents snoring, but they were in a deep sleep, they wouldn’t have heard. But what if they did, she got nervous as she reached for the door, What if this was a bad idea? But what if the music was coming from the creek? What if there was a frog that would turn into a prince and bring her to a beautiful castle? She had to go, so she did.
“Hello,” she said. But there was no answer. “Hello!!” she said louder this time. She started to turn away. When she heard it.
Cccccooommmeeee, ppllaayy,
Oooohhhh ttooootllle lllooo
“I’ll play with you.” she answered. Her eyes widened, when the pretty yellow flowers started to glow.
“Darling, wake up.” Mama said. “Did you see that bright light? What if winter came early?” They both got up, papa put on his coat and mama her shawl. As they walked out the noticed the front door open. “Go check on the children.” papa said.
Mama went upstairs, to the first room where the boys slept, they were sound asleep. However, as she went to the girl’s room, one of the beds was flat. Quickly, she ran downstairs and outside, where she saw her husband, kneeling down by the creek. He had something in hands.
He turned when he heard his wife and just as she was about to tell him that their daughter was missing, she saw her daughter's nightdress and shawl in his hands.
“I don’t know where she went” She ran closer to him and they hugged each other for a while before going inside.
As they walked inside, they forgot to check the creek that now had a new pretty yellow flower and it sang.
Ooooohhhohhhh tttttoooootttllle lllloooooo
Just breathe, it’s fine, everything’s going to be Just fine.
Maybe I’ll just throw it out. Yeah, Yup that’s what I’ll do. Throw it out. The Garbage truck will pass by later and they’ll deal with it. And all those memories will be out of my life for good.
“MOM!” “The pancakes are burning!” I turn around quickly, to see my 6 year old daughter, almost 7 in a few months, Abigail. Gosh, they grow up so fast, Don’t they? “Umm. The pancakes”?
“Oh shit”
I grab the hot pan and throw it into the sink. Welp, there goes breakfast. So much for mother of the year. Opening the pantry, I see a box of brown sugar pop tarts and hand it to Abby. “Here, Just eat this fast and get dressed. Or we’re going to be late for soccer practice.”
“I’m already dressed.”
“Ok, then let’s get going.”
“ Get 50% off on your next purchase. Older online or in Stores!!! Sale ends Soon!!!”
My body jolts up. U know what they say when u get older your body starts to feel like u just got hit by a truck. I rub one of my hands on my face. Oh great, I forgot I was wearing mascara. Now I’m going to look like a raccoon.
After turning off the TV, I go to reach for my phone in my pocket. I must’ve misplaced it. I walk to the cabinet and pour myself a glass of water. Damn, that must have been one good nap, if I’m this thirsty. I put the glass into the sink and see the pan from earlier.
Then it hits me. I forgot to throw it out. Maybe this is a sign, I should just keep it. Maybe It’s time I look through it. No. But it’s like my body is on autopilot and it leads me upstairs to the hallway closet. I reach for the light, Damn, I make a mental note that I have to get new light bulbs, these are fading.
In the corner, I see it, the chest, and in some way it reminds me of why I tucked it away all those years ago. Fuck it, now or never, Just breathe. I reach for it and lay it down at my feet. I get down on my knees because if I keep standing, my legs will give out.
I brush my hands against the brown leather straps that have slowly faded throughout time. I pull at the golden latch and I hear the click and I just can’t do it. I look up and start praying to that stupid ugly, yellow colored lightbulb. So much for 50% off.
I open it and look down into it and then I see a picture of my little Abigail, who was 6 almost 7 years, sitting on the couch, eating her pancakes, smiling back at me.
All I hear is silence now. Wait, no. There’s beeping. I see the smoke. I lift my head up, I can feel something warm dripping down my face, I reach my hand up and see its blood. I look up at the car mirror and I see her. She looks like she’s sleeping. Did practice tire her out?
“MISS! U ALRIGHT!” a man shouts. Why is he so loud? My head is spinning. He better not wake Abby up, she seems tired.
“Don’t worry Miss. Help is on the way.”
Help. It never came fast enough. Abby stayed asleep. It’s been 10 years now. My therapist says that I should try to move on and keep her memory alive. But how? I’ll tell you how. I wrap a photo of my happiest memory of her in her baby blue blanket and tucked her away.
And then I just breathe. It's fine. Everything’s going to be just fine.
