Source: Josie & The Pussycats [1970]
Source: Avatar: The Legend of Korra [2014]
spacevixenmusic reblogged
ohkhaleesimykhaleesi
“Dogs don’t know what they look like. Dogs don’t even know what size they are. No doubt it’s our fault, for breeding them into such weird shapes and sizes. My brother’s dachshund, standing tall at eight inches, would attack a Great Dane in the full conviction that she could tear it apart. When a little dog is assaulting its ankles the big dog often stands there looking confused — “Should I eat it? Will it eat me? I am bigger than it, aren’t I?” But then the Great Dane will come and try to sit in your lap and mash you flat, under the impression that it is a Peke-a-poo… Cats know exactly where they begin and end. When they walk slowly out the door that you are holding open for them, and pause, leaving their tail just an inch or two inside the door, they know it. They know you have to keep holding the door open. That is why their tail is there. It is a cat’s way of maintaining a relationship. Housecats know that they are small, and that it matters. When a cat meets a threatening dog and can’t make either a horizontal or a vertical escape, it’ll suddenly triple its size, inflating itself into a sort of weird fur blowfish, and it may work, because the dog gets confused again — “I thought that was a cat. Aren’t I bigger than cats? Will it eat me?” … A lot of us humans are like dogs: we really don’t know what size we are, how we’re shaped, what we look like. The most extreme example of this ignorance must be the people who design the seats on airplanes. At the other extreme, the people who have the most accurate, vivid sense of their own appearance may be dancers. What dancers look like is, after all, what they do.”
— Ursula Le Guin, in The Wave in the Mind (via fortooate)
spacevixenmusic reblogged
Me, writing: Have I already had someone shrug recently? Yeah I think she shrugged like two minutes ago already. I'm pretty sure I've written someone chuckling like five times. Everyone chuckles so goddamn much. Maybe everything is just super amusing here. How about I switch it up a bit and have someone raise an eyebrow curiously yeah that'll work hell yeah
spacevixenmusic reblogged
Screw writing “strong” women. Write interesting women. Write well-rounded women. Write complicated women. Write a woman who kicks ass, write a woman who cowers in a corner. Write a woman who’s desperate for a husband. Write a woman who doesn’t need a man. Write women who cry, women who rant, women who are shy, women who don’t take no shit, women who need validation and women who don’t care what anybody thinks. THEY ARE ALL OKAY, and all those things could exist in THE SAME WOMAN. Women shouldn’t be valued because we are strong, or kick-ass, but because we are people. So don’t focus on writing characters who are strong. Write characters who are people.
Words of great wisdom on strong female characters~ by madlori (via laughingskeleton)
spacevixenmusic reblogged
suzannepearman-deactivated20150
you can't fix someone else's story by rewriting it
you are not them and you don't know how their story goes
but you can write your own story about the same thing
and vow to write the parts you didn't like differently
#writing#this is how I'm gonna do things from now on#cause who the fuck am I to judge someone's story and tell them it's wrong#or call it bad writing#if they want a legit critique I'll offer some pointers#but when I read I automatically look for parts I like#as opposed to combing it for perfection and getting all disgruntled when it isn't#DON'T MIND ME#JUST SPOUTING OPINIONS HERE#TW:opinions
spacevixenmusic reblogged
Where has this been all my life!?
okay so
“said” is an invisible word. people don’t notice it. they notice quotes and the nouns that address who is saying it.
my personal rule is to use a word other than “said” if you otherwise can’t tell the emotion that is being portrayed in speech. overuse of alternatives just makes you look like you’re trying too hard.
writing is about style but, like art, you have to know some basics before delving into your novel.
fun fact - in journalism you’re actually encouraged to only use “said” so…. unless this is for fiction writing, i sure hope said isn’t “dead.”
Another fun thing to do in fiction is to only use said (or any variation thereof) at critical points in the conversation, or if you want the spoken line to be accompanied by body language or background actions. For an actual back-and-forth conversation, try using mostly dialog enclosed in quotes, with no names or verbs attached, saving those bits for important changes in speaking:
"I hate romance," she mumbled.
"Yeah, we already established that."
"Yeah, okay. Right. So...Ice Queen kissed me. Now what?"
"We gotta expand on that. Tell me what it felt like."
"Cold."
Cake thumped Fionna on the back of the head. "Details, ya lump! What'd you feel inside?"
nemesiswheel-deactivated2012111
“I often said that writers are of two types. There is the architect, which is one type. The architect, as if designing a building, lays out the entire novel at a time. He knows how many rooms there will be or what a roof will be made of or how high it will be, or where the plumbing will run and where the electrical outlets will be in its room. All of that stuff before he drives the first nail. Everything is there in the blueprint. And then there’s the garderner who digs the hole in the ground, puts in the seed and waters it with his blood and sees what comes up. The garderner knows certain things. He’s not completely ignorant. He knows whether he planted an oak tree, or corn, or a cauliflower. He has some idea of the shape but a lot of it depends on the wind and the weather and how much blood he gives it and so forth. No one is purely an architect or a gardener in terms of writers, but many writers tend to one side or the other. I’m very much more of a garderner.”
...I am such a gardener.
Like, I take my time very carefully picking out which seeds to plant before I start.
But then the rest is nothing but gardening.
spacevixenmusic reblogged
—-
Your mother has a huge circular jar tucked back on the counter, and it’s full of fine feathery white stuff that’s like the sand on the playground except it tastes a whole lot better. You push a chair against the bar and you climb up and you reach for that jar on a day you think no one will mind. It is heavy, heavier than you thought, and you have only just managed to pick it up when you drop it again. It hits the floor and shatters and the white stuff and glass are everywhere, winking sharp and shining in the light from the window. You think it is all very pretty. The babysitter does not. She smacks both your hands and puts you in the corner and you sulk and you cry, and the next time you see the kitchen it has been swept clean. There is never another jar.
You don’t forget the first, though. Not really.
OH MY GOD.
...OH. MY. GOODDDDD.
A Game.
Open a document/journal/etc with your original writing. Scroll/flip to your last page. Reblog with your last line.
namelessshameless
“‘Just water.’”
Clearly, I’m the master of powerful and meaningful writing.
mangodeluxe
“Then a thing ate them.” <—- Winner.
“She’s actually sort of backed way the fuck up against Daehoon, really, all wide eyes and red cheeks. “
…I’m still working on this one.
hoistdatrag
“‘From getting rid of bad dreams, sunshine.’”
"I'm just sitting here waiting and eating up time"
-- from a song I wrote about eating when you're bored >>
spacevixenmusic reblogged
Call Down Heaven
—-
“You’ve got to do something else to help improve her balance,” says the doctor as he makes to stitch up my arm. In the room’s harsh light his watch glints and gleams, throwing up spangles, and the silver shimmer in his hand is a tiny, terrible dagger. “The karate she’s taking is good, but it looks like it’s not quite enough.”
Mom shoots Dad a victorious glance, her nose scrunched, her mouth a tight line. “It’s too masculine anyway,” she huffs. Smoothing her hand down my shoulder, she adds, “I know what we’ll do.”
Suddenly there is something in my world scarier than the doctor’s needle.
...partly why I'm afraid to take up dancing of any sort.
Wonderfully written as always, and I love the small victory at the end!