Tag: writing

shanastoryteller:

emeraldincandescent:

Sometimes writing is like having an enormous lake in your head, and you want to get it out of your head and into a proper place for a lake so other people can come and go swimming and ride jet skis and stuff, except all you have to move the lake is a teaspoon. So you’re just sitting there frantically flinging water out of the lake with your teaspoon and telling people, “Guys, this lake is going to be so cool when it’s done,” but it will never be done. There is so much lake.

#this is…..so hashtag relatable#there is so much lake#and the more water you fling out of the lake the more water you realize is in the lake#the lake is so full of lake#it is so full of lake all the time#and then you look over to the left and realize—HOLY SHIT THERE IS ANOTHER LAKE#it is so blue and beautiful and wow you totally want to work on spooning THAT lake out of your head#but you haven’t even finished with the first lake#and so you’re just sort of sitting here on the muddy ground surrounded by small bathing pools#“these pools are so refreshing!” people say “I’d love to swim in your lake sometime!”#“SO WOULD I” you howl forlornly into the night clutching your teaspoon#about me 

(via @notbecauseofvictories

Modernist manuals of writing often conflate story with conflict. This reductionism reflects a culture that inflates aggression and competition while cultivating ignorance of other behavioral options. No narrative of any complexity can be built on or reduced to a single element. Conflict is one kind of behavior. There are others, equally important in any human life, such as relating, finding, losing, bearing, discovering, parting, changing.

Change is the universal aspect of all these sources of story. Story is something moving, something happening, something or somebody changing.

Ursula K. Le Guin (via jayemichaela)

I mostly wrote when I was heartbroken. You can say that was my fuel. It’s like the words floated around my head, jumbled, needing a home. Pen to paper, they say. In this case it was thumbs to keyboard. As I typed I was envisioning the story. As I typed, my thumbs were going faster and faster. As I typed the final period, it hit me. The heart may be broken, but only temporarily. After all darling, you are your own healer.

hint-of-pureness (via wnq-writers)