I love you, he says. I want to hold this moment. I want to believe it. I want his love to have enough salt in it to float me. I donât want to be swimming for my life. I want to trust him. I donât trust him.
Jeanette Winterson, Frankissstein.Â
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I love you, he says. I want to hold this moment. I want to believe it. I want his love to have enough salt in it to float me. I donât want to be swimming for my life. I want to trust him. I donât trust him.
Jeanette Winterson, Frankissstein.Â

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They never say, I love you with all my kidneys. I love you with my liver. They donât say, my gall bladder is yours and yours alone. No one says, she broke my appendix.
Jeanette Winterson, Frankissstein.
I am a(n):
⪠Male
⪠Female
đ Writer
Looking for
⪠Boyfriend
⪠Girlfriend
đ An incredibly specific word that I can't remember
*wakes up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat*
WAIT ITâS CALLED A THROW PILLOW
here is a super helpful website for this kinda thing!
the first result isnât always the one youâre looking for but when you press enter itâll give you a ton of words related to your query thatâll probably have what youâre wanting, or something better
hereâs some examples:
I love you the way an abandoned house might love a person who stumbled across it. With sheer desperation and a pinch of hope.
Saiber, 1/30
reminder to self to fucking GO WILD with any piece of writing. just. have FUN type absolute utter bs and abandon that planned-to-publish wip to work on something you like, turn the same daydream around and look at it from every angle and write it down no matter if itâs fanfic, cliche or doesnât fit in any wip ALL OF THIS IS PRACTICING AND ITâS ALSO FUN SO YOU CANâT DO ANYTHING WRONG HERE

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Writing advice you're not going to like.
People sometimes send me Asks wanting writing advice. Â I suck at it. Â I donât really know how I do the writing, or how one should do the writing, or what one should do to get better at the writing. Â All I can ever think to say is âwrite a lot of stuff and you will get better at the writing.â Â Which is true, but hardly a bolt from the sky.
Well, as it turns out, I do have one piece of Legit Writing Advice, and I am going to share it with you, right now. Â If you were in any of my writing workshop groups at a con, youâve heard this advice already.
Warning: youâre going to fucking hate it. Â But if you do it, you will thank me.
If you have a piece of fiction youâre serious about, something you might want to actually shop around, or just something you really are into and want to make it as good as you canâŚdo NOT edit it.
Repeat. Â DO NOT EDIT.
REWRITE.
As in, print out the whole fucking thing and re-enter it, every word (or use two screens). Â Retype the whole thing. Â Recreate it from the ground up using your first draft as a template. Â Start with a blank page and re-enter every. single. word.
I hear you screaming. Â OH MY GOD THATâS INSANE.
Yes. Â Yes, it is.
It is also the most powerful thing you will ever do for a piece of fiction that you are serious about.
Now, letâs get real. Â I donât do this for most things. Â I donât do it for my fanfiction. Â But if itâs something original, something I might like to get to a professional level - I do it. Â You absolutely COULD do it for fanfiction. Â Itâs just up to you and how much time you want to sink into a piece.
You can edit, sure. Â But you WILL NOT get down to the level of change that needs to happen in a second draft. Â You will let things slide. Â Your eyes will miss things. Â You will say âeh, good enough.â
The first time I did this, on someone elseâs advice, I was dubious. Â Within two pages, I was saying WHY HAVE I NOT BEEN DOING THIS ALL THE TIME. Â I was amazed at how much change was happening. Â By the time I got to the end, I had an entirely different novel than the one Iâd started with. Â When youâre already re-entering every single word, itâs easy to make deep changes. Â Youâll reformat sentences, youâll switch phrases around, youâll massage your word choice. Â Youâll discover whole paragraphs that donât need to be there at all because they became redundant. Â Youâll find dialogue exchanges that need reimagining. Â Whole plot points will suddenly be different, whole story arcs will reveal their flaws and get re-drawn.
You cannot get down to the fundamental level of change thatâs required just by editing an existing document. Â You have to rebuild it if you really want your story to evolve. Â You will be AMAZED at the difference it will make.
It will take time. Â It will seem like a huge, Herculean task. Â Iâm not saying itâs easy. Â It isnât. Â But it is absolutely revolutionary.
Try it. Â I promise, you will see what I mean.
*PSA: Tipsy!Lori wrote this post. Â In case you couldnât tell.
maybe i should try this with my comic scripts.
This advice is real.
I reblogged this earlier on kind of a âthat sounds interesting. might work, might not, canât see it being drastically different but whatever I should try.â kind of note
Iâve got a short story due today at 5, so I decided to do this and completely rewrite the first draft.
OH. MY GOD.
This is legitimate. Itâs let me completely gut scenes I was unhappy with, rewrite them entirely differently and not feel any loyalty to what I used to have.
Itâs taking a long time. Itâs a commitment. But heck so is writing.
This is great. Do this. Itâs amazing.
I may just try thisâŚâŚ on I day when I have some self discipline.
Some of the best writing advice I ever got was if youâre stuck on a scene or a line, the problem is actually about 10 lines back and thatâs saved me from writerâs block so many times.
I feel like I need an elaborate explanation
Often times, I find myself stuck on what a character should say next or what should happen in a scene to connect A to B or so on. When this happens, I fall into the trap of writing and rewriting the same few lines over and over, and becoming more and more dissatisfied every time until I give up.Â
But problem is almost never actually whatever line Iâm trying to write at the moment; the issue is the stuff leading up to the line. Maybe there are structural issues with the set up, maybe I wrote a bit of dialogue that was out of character leading to a discussion that doesnât make sense, maybe Iâm missing a vital piece of exposition or expositing too much. It could be a lot of things, but the important part of the advice is to look back and be willing to consider changes to something earlier in the work (even if youâre really attached to like a piece of dialogue or a particular sentence or something) instead of trying to find a way to force out a scene thatâs not working.
That makes a lot of sense. Thanks for explaining!
This is really helpful!
Woah! I never thought about that! Thanks!
hey! i made a patreon!
Drabble List #2
New drabble prompt list! Feel free to reblog!
âThatâs how the story goes.â
âNone of this is your fault.â
âI know it hurts.â
âAre you serious?â
âYouâre safe now.â
âNo oneâs going to hurt you.â
âI donât understand.â
âThis isnât what I wanted.â
âMy head hurts.â
âIâm right here, okay?â
âWow, you look⌠amazing.â
âAre you okay?â
âWho did this?â
âI made a mistake.â
âWhen Iâm with you, Iâm home.â
âThereâs nothing I can do anymore.â
âThis is going to hurt.â
âThat was kind of hot.â
âPlease donât let me be alone.â
âDonât try to fix me. Iâm not broken.â
âItâs never too late to get back up again.â
âWhat if one day I wake up and you donât?â
âI immediately regret this decision.â
âIâm not okay.â
âIâm scared.â
âYouâre the one thing keeping me sane right now.â
âPlease stay with me.â
âPlease help me.â
âItâs okay to cry.â
âIs that blood?â
âCan I kiss you?â
âYouâre everything to me.â
âIâd like to see you try.â
âAre you testing me?â
âI just wanted to let you know that I think youâre beautiful.â
âIâm lost without you.â
âYou have my word.â
âIâm just tired.â
âIt just⌠hurts.â
âDo you promise?â
âIâm not drunk enough for this.â
âWhy are you shaking?â
âI never meant to hurt you.â
âIs that my shirt?â
âPlease donât shut me out.â
âGo back to sleep.â
âI can take care of myself just fine.â
âThis is new.â
âTake off your shirt.â
âBe you. No one else can.â
âI canât breathe.â
âAre you going to talk to me?â
âIâm sorry.â
âTheyâre gone.â
âJust smile. I really need you to smile right now.â
âWould you just hold still?â
âI miss the way things used to be.â
âAm I dead?â
âLook at me.â
âCan we just pretend like weâre normal for once?â
âI told you not to fall in love with me.â
âPlease shut up. Just shut up.â
âPlease tell me itâs going to be okay.â
âYell, scream, cry, please, just say something, anything.â
âWhen you smile, I fall apart.â
âIf I die, Iâm never speaking to you again.â
âIf you donât want to talk about it then say so. Donât lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly arenât.â
âThis isnât what it looks like.â
âI just really miss talking to you.â
âI canât do this on my own.â
âIâve got you.â
âWeâll figure this out.â
âPlease donât say goodbye.â
âYouâve shown me what love can feel like.â
âYou make me feel alive.â
âI wouldnât change a thing about you.â
âThere is nothing wrong with you.â
âIâm just looking out for you.â
âBe careful.â
âYou owe me.â
âCome with me.â
âI trust you.â
âI didnât want you to see this.â
âIâve been praying for you.â
âTake my jacket. Itâs cold outside.â
âIâll walk you home.â
âLet me help.â
âCome here.â
âYouâre holding back.â
âRemember when we were little?â
âWeâre all a little stronger than we think we are.â
âDonât sell yourself short.â
âThis isnât who I am.â
âIâm willing to wait for it.â
âAre you ready for this?â
âYou can do this.â
âYour life was my lifeâs best part.â
âYou were always gold to me.â
âDonât look at me like that.â
âIâm fine with where I am now.â
âWe all want to be somebody.â
âPromise me youâll come back.â
âI donât know anyone else who can make me feel this way.â
âIâve never felt stronger than when youâre with me.â
âI believe in you.â
âNope,â I whisper as I exit out of a fic with no paragraph breaks.
No excuses, folks! Change paragraphs when:
- the âcameraâ moves - a new character shows up - someone speaks - someone else speaks - a new idea, subject, or topic is introduced - time passes or reverts to an earlier point - the setting changes - the mood shifts - you want to create dramatic effect
this is so so so more reader friendly, people, heed it!

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Donât let anyone tell you that writing is easy.
People oftentimes think that anyone can be a good writer because itâs just words. People might devalue writing and say that you should be doing something better and more lucrative with your time.
Writing takes effort, writing takes skill, writing takes discipline and writing takes practice.
Itâs staying up until 6 in the morning because you want to get all of your thoughts down before you forget them. Itâs tearing your hair out because youâre stuck, and you donât know how to continue on. Itâs rereading your writing and hating the words youâve written because they sound so stilted and boring.
Writers, what you are doing now is an impressive thing. Youâre attempting to create an entire world from scratch, create compelling characters that will capture the hearts of readers, trying to explain that brilliant scene in words when you can visualize it so clearly in your mind.
It can be a really difficult and daunting task, but youâre doing it and youâre doing it well. Itâs not worthless, itâs not meaningless, and it has a lot of value.Â
Writing is the joy of your characters coming to life. Itâs the rush that you get when you finally get to that one scene youâve been dying to write. Itâs feeling like you want to cry when someone tells you that they loved what you wrote. Itâs that sense of accomplishment you get when you can look back at what youâve written and say âwow⌠I actually did this.â Itâs the sense of fulfillment you get when youâve had a productive day. Itâs those long days of just thinking about how your story is going to surprise you, and planning ahead 20 novels in advance because you love your writing and your story. Itâs the joy of creating, the fruits of your labor, and the excitement of sharing it with other people who will love it just as much as you do.
Nothing will ever take that away from you. Let yourself be proud of being a writer. Give yourself a pat on your back and say âHey you know what? I love writing, and Iâm doing great.â Because you are. Youâre doing something really hard, and youâre doing it well.
Writing is an art that can touch peopleâs hearts, and if thatâs not magical I donât know what is.
imo the best way to interpret those âreal people donât do xâ writing advice posts is âmost people donât do x, so if a character does x, it should be a distinguishing trait.â human behavior is infinitely varied; for any x, there are real people who do x. we canât make absolute statements. we can, however, make probabilistic ones.
for example, most people donât address each other by name in the middle of a casual conversation. if all your characters do that, your dialogue will sound stilted and unnatural. but if just one character does that, then it tells us something about that character.
when im published and there are rp blogs for my muses if i see anyone draw âtheir interpretation of mystralâ as wearing pastel purples and blues and im gonna find a way to unpublish my book
same goes for goth punk ryan i swear to god
rhys barany came to school every day in pink. he had âgirls support girlsâ t-shirts under playboy hoodies, and he drew doodles of hearts or stars or anything else he could think of on his cheekbones before school every morning. he road the bus with his cousin slash best friend every morning and teased her the whole way to school about how he would piglet due to his pink if she was pooh bear due to her yellow. heâd make comments about how since piglet is so much smaller she should carry him, and everyone who saw them assumed he was her older brother, when he was actually four months younger and a cousin.
rhys barany was a boy with hair like a black sheepâs coat. unkept and slightly dirty due to the assumption that it was harder to tell in black hair, but the curls still like cotton candy clouds in the occurrence that he stepped away from teenage boy sterotypes and washed it. that and how he talked to those he was comfortable with were the only teenage boy sterotypes he followed, though, always quiet and never looking to make new friends because jane was enough for him.
rhys barany played the trumpet in his band class and faded in with the rest of the students. he ate lunch with his cousin while he went unnoticed another day in his life without feeling a reason to be upset about that. the first person he really talked to other than jane was a boy he met during his second year of high school in his cousinâs hospital room. it was a junior boy he grew to trust and find attractive a little too fast before he invited him over to house to do more than just talk trumpets and drums.
jane ainsley comes to school every day without her cousin at her side. she sits at lunch without wanting to ever use her voice again, and a boy with flower drawn on his arms sits across from her. a boy who put her into the hospital and was the reason she would never see her cousin and best friend again. he offers her a flower crown that he made, and she chokes on her own grief, unable to deny the gift as he puts it on her books to take with her.
February 12th, 2013.
It happens over breakfast.
They are eating sugared crepes at Aaronâs dadâs house. Erinâs eating hers with powdered sugar while they talk about her next college, âAaronâs doing anesthesia, assuming he didnât tell you. Iâm gonna be doing geology, which Iâve always wanted to do.â She beams as she talks, but she canât see it. Itâs almost funny when Aaron notices it: she always puts him first, not from admiration or anything of the like, but rather her competitiveness.
Aaronâs got a smile on his face, but heâs silent to keep Erin from knowing. âLast I heard, Aaron was done with school.â His dad says, giving a look to his son in hopes of getting an explanation. When he notices the smile across his face, his dad raises eyebrows in curiosity.
Aaron taps his ring finger, and it clicks together in his dadâs head of why he was so happy. Erin scoffs at their silence, though. âYeah, heâs the worst. Iâm not surprised he didnât tell you.â The two boys at the table with her snicker and her confusion becomes apparent. âWhat did you do?â She directly only towards Aaron, with accusation painfully clear in her words.
âI did nothing.â He states honestly. He hadnât yet done anything -- that much was true. Yet, she still kicks him under the table in hope of getting the âtrueâ answer. âStop that, I really did nothing!â He tells her, all while kicking her back. The two of them are smiling in a way sweet enough to make Aaronâs dadâs heart melt, and the kicking turns more to a game of footsy than anything else.
âHe really didnât do anything yet, sweetheart.â His dad says, before he gets up from his seat at the table. âAaron, why donât you take your girlfriend out to the yacht? The weathers perfect today for that.â He suggests as he pushes in the chair, picking up his plate.
Erin whines at the comment, âIâm not his girlfriend!â Her voice jumps an octive when she says it, though, and everyone knows that, while they werenât official, that she was. Even she knew that.
âDee doesnât actually like yachts very much anymore.â Aaron explains with a complete disregard to Erinâs whining. He gets up too, though, pushing in his chair and giving his own plate he ate the breakfast snack off of to his dad. âI do want to ask her something first, though.â He comments as she gets up, and it makes her entire face twist with distrust.
âYou are such a creep.â She mutters as she does the same as the other two did.
Once sheâs standing, Aaron begins to talk. âFor as insufferable as you are, Dee, I rather believe that you are something spectacular.â He tells her, a smile filled with more pride than love and awe across his face for her to hear. The words donât quite feel natural to say, and they donât sound natural either. It didnât quite fit who they were as friends: and Erin is sure to point that out.
âEw, stop it. You obviously did something: what did you do?â
Aaron laughs, and so does his dad as he gently sets the plates back down on the table as he watches the two love birds. âI didnât do anything.â Aaron reassures, but she huffs. When she goes to say something, he interrupts so he can continue with why he was saying these things. âMaybe I donât quite think of you of spectacular, just more tolerable than most people. In fact,â He pauses, and Erin only has the soft sound of his movement to tell that he had gotten down to one knee.
âWhat are you--â
âIâm talking.â He interrupts again, before she can even ask what he was doing. âAs I was saying, I think that I could tolerate you for an eternity if I was asked too.â
Erin scoffs, âI donât know if I could.â She claims as she brings her arms to a cross. She doesnât put together why the word eternity would be said while he was down on the ground. Aaron wasnât even her boyfriend, technically, so she couldnât even begin to come up with guesses of anything. âYou are an irritating, flamboyant, posh creep who--â
Aaron scoffs, âTalking.â He tells her again, and once he has her attention: âIâll let you keep your last name if you say yes.â
âKeep my last name? What are you--â Suddenly it all clicks in her head: the snickering, the oddly nice comment, the way he was down on the ground. The mention of eternity; the mention of last names. It all made since under once specific context: Aaron was proposing to her. Her best friend since Oxford was proposing to her. âGod, youâre such a creep!â She exclaims, âI hate you!â
As soon as she cuts off her question of what he was talking about, he was getting up off of one knee. He knew he needed to get up in order for her to do what she wanted to react properly. After all, her exclamation of hatred in her high pitched voice was enough of an answer for him: âYou can kiss me now, since you want too.â
She puts her hands out to find where he stands, and when she finds him, she yanks him closer to him with a force thatâs almost enough to make him stumble. She presses her lips against his, and she knows that she is grossly enamored with him. Especially when the kiss ends and he says something in a voice quiet enough, it was like he didnât want his dad to hear. âMy mom wouldnât leave me alone until I ask.â
Thereâs a smile spread across her face as her mind already envisions signing the papers in court with both of their own names. The idea of married without shared last names or a ring was something that owned her heart in this moment: no matter how hard it would be for most people to understand. Still, she acts as if that wasnât the case. âIâm only saying yes because my parents would kill me if I didnât agree to tax benefits.â
Itâs the most painfully clear lie she could have said, but then again, so was his.

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FILE:Â RICE, EMME.
i listened to a poem in which the line of âthere is a certain high to hating yourselfâ appears. today, my mother also reminded me how everyone in my family wanted me to be aborted prior to me being born.Â
âprior to me being bornâ may seem redundant next to the word âabortedâ however the whole time my mom kept repeating about how i have no reason to think she hates me since she was the only one that wanted me i kept thinking about how much i wished euthanasia was an over the counter drug. i wanted to stop feeling this way the whole time; wanted to feel less sad because then sheâd never had a reason to bring up her proof to how she loves me. but at the same time i wanted to hate myself just a tad bit more so i could go back inside my grandmotherâs house and search for anything that could kill me and finally do it.
i want to say that line is wrong, that hating yourself is a feeling that you want to carve out no matter the blood or gore that it could cause or even if you wouldnât be able to survive it. though, when i was in tenth grade, i had panic attacks on the bus and in social studies class because i genuinely believed that if i didnât kill myself already then my sister would be murdered. when i was in tenth grade, i hated myself more and more every day because i didnât hate myself enough to end it all and save my sister, always wanting to hate myself more. i remember praying in the hall way mid panic attack to a god i do not believe in that i would be able to find a painless way to kill myself when i got home.
sometimes, i get offered drugs. they hide the idea of drugs from my sister, who i am blessed to be able to say that she is still alive despite me never hating myself enough to save her, but still offer me drugs. i say maybe, but every time the moment comes close i turn it down, having no desire for a high.
maybe there is a high to hating yourself like that poetry said. itâs a high that nobody wants until itâs already in our lungs making us feel as though we canât breathe, and when we realize we can still breathe just enough to survive, we want more and more inside of our lungs.Â