goose

if all you have is your device and internet access, you can put your clicks to good use on arab.org. they use the advertising revenue generated by your clicks to help good causes.

and i would urge those able to spare a few dollars to donate to one or more of the following organizations:

eSims for Gaza

Direct aid for Gaza

Care for Gaza

Women for Women International

Institute for Middle East Understanding

Medical Aid for Palestinians

Palestine Children Relief Fund

Muslim Aid USA

Palestinian American Medical Association

Urgent support for medical professionals in Gaza

Emergency Relief for Gaza

Anera

There’s this funny misconception that when a character walks into a room, the important part is the room. Writers start scrambling to describe the walls, the wallpaper, the lighting, the color of the rug that no one asked for. And sure, you can do that. But the room doesn’t matter until your character touches it with their thoughts.

And I’m saying this with love, because I’ve written those “character enters room, now here’s a paragraph about the furniture” scenes too. We all have. They’re basically a rite of passage.

But the more you write (and the more drafts you survive) the more you realize something important: the room is NEVER the point. The PERSON entering it is.

When someone walks into a room in real life, they don’t float in like a neutral non-entity. They bring whatever emotional chaos they’ve been dealing with. They bring the argument they just had in the hallway. They bring the secret they’re not ready to tell anyone. They bring the memory the smell of the room just stabbed them with. People don’t arrive clean. They arrive mid-story, even if they pretend they’re fine. So instead of focusing on the chair in the corner, try starting with the emotional “temperature” your character walks in with.

Are they anxious and trying to hide it?

Are they exhausted and hoping nobody notices?

Are they excited but scared they’ll ruin everything the moment they open their mouth?

You don’t have to spell it out like a weather report, just let it tint the way they see the space. Plus, a room changes depending on who’s looking at it. If your character is confident, the space might feel open, manageable, almost welcoming. If they’re overwhelmed, the same room can feel too loud, too bright, too filled with people who suddenly seem to know exactly where they’re going and what they’re doing. If they’re guilty, every shadow becomes suspicious. If they’re sad, the room might seem bigger than it really is.

It doesn’t matter how the room “objectively” looks. What matters is what they see first.

And please let your characters enter rooms in realistically messy ways. Not every entrance needs to be cinematic or in the Hollywood style. Not every character glides. Some fumble the door handle. Some hesitate in the doorway because they suddenly can’t remember why they came in. Some scan the room too fast because they’re nervous and then pretend they weren’t scanning the room at all. Some try way too hard to appear casual and end up bumping into a table they didn’t even notice was there.

That kind of stuff makes your characters feel like a real person and not because the action is interesting, but because it’s familiar. It’s that tiny, “oh god, same” moment between the reader and the character, even if they never consciously notice it.

🌿 Out of this wood do not desire to go

My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.

But life had other plans.

War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.

There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.

I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.

Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.

This is my life.

This is my daughter’s life.

And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.

Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.

That’s why I keep going.

I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.

How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war

💛 If you can, please support our journey here:

If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.

From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.

I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.

Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.