#thelynxwrites

You design their personalities, their past, their dynamics.

And then they refuse to behave

the way you planned.

At some point you stop arguing with them

also me: too lazy to write it down, I’ll remember it

morning: what scene???

I keep coming back to that. Because it’s easy to feel like it doesn’t count:

if no one reads it,

if it’s just a few lines,

if it stays unfinished.

But writing doesn’t become real

because it’s seen.

Entire arguments.

Tender confessions.

Apologies no one has spoken yet.

It looks strange if you describe it out loud.

But this is how stories form —

through internal rehearsal.

You don’t wait for life to hand you dialogue.

You construct it.

Carefully.

Deliberately.

Later I’ll write.

Later I’ll start.

Later I’ll have more time.

Later feels safe because it doesn’t require action.

But later is also where most ideas disappear.

So at some point you stop negotiating with it.

You read it. You question it. You briefly consider deleting the entire document.

And then you open it again the next day.

Doubt isn’t a sign to quit. It’s part of the craft.

If writing is a choice, then returning is also a choice.

No one forces you to sit back down. You do it because the story still matters.

Not because it’s easy. Because you decided it would.

Two hours later you’re still adjusting

a single line of dialogue

because the tone is slightly off.

I love the weight of a book

in my hands.

Sometimes it grows heavier

when I realize

how much life