Hecate Herself

writers, instead of asking ai for help, you can always use your childhood trauma and repressed issues to help you with that fic

when the author describes someone dying and you can just tell they’ve never actually died by the way it’s written

writing is all fun and games until the scene requires a location

A non-writer asked me "but where do you get your ideas" and i genuinely did not know how to explain that it's not a place. it's not a website. it's not a folder. it's that i was on the bus and a woman was holding a paper bag very carefully and something about the way she held it made me need to know what was inside and then i needed to know why she was sad about it and then there was a whole person and then there was a whole story and the bus had already stopped and i missed my stop. that's where.

The specific humiliation of sharing your writing with someone and then watching them read it in front of you in real time. they pause. why did they pause. that was a bad pause. now they're nodding but what does the nod mean. now they look up and say "wow" and you need to know IMMEDIATELY what kind of wow that was. there are at least six different wows and only one of them is good and you have aged fourteen years waiting to find out which one.

writing tip: put words on page. hope this helps. i will not be taking questions because i have not done this

i need my novel to understand that i am just a girl

the plot is plotting but unfortunately so am i. against myself.

sometimes, the blorbo rotates you

and here, we see a writer in their natural habitat, doing daily activities, such as thinking about writing, and complaining about writing. there is no writing getting done, except when the writers have many other things to get done.