#writeb

For the longest time, I’ve kept my deepest love and afflictions inked out on pages of many journals written in dates that transport you to eras of a curious and an all-feeling mind. But as I’m typing these words you’re reading right now, I’ve come to face the full truth, in daring action, to see my belief in full integrity. That belief is known as — “I don’t have to have it all together”. This thought not only considers my outward disposition but also within. My internal turmoil in things I’ve yet to grasp and heights I’ve yet to reach. Let that thought chant in echoes until it’s a thought that appears naturally like breathing when I find something new to learn.

And another thought that spells, “It doesn’t have to be perfect, I just have to begin.” So, the next attempt at life, whether in a state of affairs or on paper, shall be without a pencil and eraser, and just a pen alone. Have a heart that is impartial to incompetence. To welcome spelling mistakes, scrambled grammar that sounds right but weird, to have terrible handwriting, and many more displeasing to the eye. I’ll train my mind not to throw out that paper I’ve come to loathe. Keep it. Let it build you up. The same goes for people who drop by only to admire or criticize. Instead of resistance, encourage it.

I am all for the belief that what they don’t know, they can’t ruin. But if to be known is to be seen, shouldn’t I become one who should be less bothered about what people may or may not think, and more concerned about the luck I’ve got at present? Both thoughts are seemingly paradoxical, though I find it necessary at times to find balance. Life tends to be a needle pivoting to balance anyway. To have both summers and winters, peaks and valleys, land and water, heaven and hell. But how will one know where to find the balance in letting people in and the others out? Perhaps I’ll learn when I stop blurring the lines and let people find what I’ve sketched out.

“Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t”, the mystics would say.

By Izellah Rae

. . .

. . .

Martin: "wow. It's only been like..an hour and this is how we're gonna be-??"

Bentley: "what do you mean?"

Martin: "You've been on your phone the entire time and Jesse hasn't said a word since we got off the bus."

Bentley: "I started a blog."

Martin: "a blog??"

Bentley: "yeah dude, an ask blog, I'm just gonna post our camp stuff and see if anyone engages."

Martin: "okay, but I don't think sitting there and refreshing the page every three seconds is gonna get you anywhere. Just give it a break."

Jesse: "what are people gonna wanna ask you anyways?"

Bentley: "I dunno. But it's something to do, I guess."

Martin: "something to do?? We're in a summer camp, there's things to do."

Bentley: "something to do for now, I mean."

Martin: "you could always spend time with your friends, yknow, the ones sitting right In Front of you."

Bentley: "I will, man! God, just give me a seco-"

Charles: "hey, We're getting ready to have a water gun fight in the field! You guys should come join us."

Jesse: "do we have to?"

Charles: "well- i mean.."

Martin: "yeah dude! Stop being so miserable and come have some damn fun for once."

Jesse: "..fine."

Bentley: "thanks for inviting us- what's your name again?"

Charles: Charles! You are-..??"

Bentley: "Bentley, you can call me Ben for short if you want,"

Charles: "alright!"

Martin: "yknow, I dunno why you gotta be so angry all the time.."

Jesse: "get off my ass about it."

Martin: "okay, okay."

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress

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Overall Sheet

This is my cherished word count tracking spreadsheet that I’ve been using for a long time to track my word count and productivity. I use this sheet for all of the writing I do, including fiction, nonfiction, academic, personal, etc.

It’s extremely useful if you want to get an idea of how productive your writing routine is, and if you typically work on a diverse set of projects (like myself) it helps you track your productivity in each one. I used to keep a kind of timesheet as well, where I would document which times of day I worked in which projects and for how long, and this can be helpful for that too.

I got a lot of requests to share my system and make a post breaking it down, and I’ve also created a template you can copy and use yourself in good sheets or excel.

View it in Google Sheets | feel free to make a copy and use it yourself :)

thanks @akindofmagictoo​ for the tag!

sun

"This is so going into my sketchbook," were the only words Mars could muster as she absorbed her surroundings. As smiling porters led them to their rooms, she took in sunlit wooden decks, striped blue-and-white loungers, throngs of people; then indoors, more people, oak-rimmed balconies, banquet halls with sky-high ceilings, and, at some point, live music. This was less of a boat than a floating city, really.

need

“Yes, that’s right, Mabel,” Bill nodded politely. From his briefcase, he withdrew a thick black binder, and its impact on the table rebounded like a thunderclap. “Let’s get down to business…”

“To defeat— the Huns!” Phillip sang.

Bill jumped. “Let’s get—” he coughed. “Let’s cut to the chase.” He needed a vacation.

fade

none, sorry!

everyday

“But here’s one thing you do need to remember. Money is a huge part of their lives, and they haven’t all learned to use it well. So, to answer your question— expect tears, furies, and deception. Expect bickering, irresponsibility, and reckless spending that will blow your mind.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Expect adults acting like children and children like adults. But most importantly, expect the unexpected. Because these people will surprise you, the way they did me everyday since I became a mother.”

That’s what I say. But to most people this translates to, “I never, ever want to have a serious relationship or settle down, and I’ll never be a normal person.”

Is it normal, I muse, to base your entire life around compromise? To only ever be able to do things with the approval of another person?

When I say, “I don’t want to get married,” what I mean is: I want to move to New York City. I want to live in a one bedroomed appartment adorned with neon signs, with a fire escape, and a bathroom down the hall.

I want to wake up and watch as the sun turns the skyline into a silhouette, sipping disgusting, dollar-store coffee and huddled up in blankets on my fire escape. I want to run for the subway, shouting apologies over my shoulder as tourists try to ask me for directions. I want to stand in Times Square at two am and watch as the streets continue to bustle as if it’s midday.

I want to be able to move halfway across the world, to feel the rush of living in a city that beats like a heart, without having to ask someone to wait for me until I come back. Because maybe I won’t.

When I say, “I don’t want to get married,” what I mean is: I want to work night shifts. I want to sleep all day and emerge with the nightlife. I want to work under the stars. I want to meet my friends at four am to have my first drink of the night, and their last.

I want to experience the haunting emptiness of late-night public transport, following by the gratifying relief of falling into bed at six am.

I want to spend a year living as a nocturnal creature without having an impact on anyone else’s life.

When I say, “I don’t want to get married,” what I mean is: I want to adopt children. It’s non-negotiable. I want to provide a home and a loving parent for children who would otherwise have neither.

I don’t want to be pregnant. I don’t want biological children. And I don’t want someone else telling me that I do.

Why should I have to wait around for someone else before getting to start my family?

When I say, “I don’t want to get married,” what I mean is: I want to have adventures. I want to disappear for a week to camp in the Scottish highlands. I want to get ice cream at one am. I want to see Moscow.

I want to visit family friends in Australia. Maybe I’ll stay for a week. Maybe a month. Maybe I’ll get a job there, and stay for the rest of my life. The decision’s up to me.

I’ve wanted to hike the Inca trail ever since I was five years old and my mother gave me an atlas. I still want to. More than anything.

I want to have the spontaneous kinds of adventures I only dreamed about having as a child, but I want to have them on my terms.

When I say, “I don’t want to get married,” what I mean is: I don’t want to put planning my life on hold just because one day I might share it with someone else. Marriage is an option, a thing that may or may not happen, but it isn’t something I want. It isn’t something I crave so much it makes my head spin and my chest ache.

I refuse to replace my deep, coveted, existential desires with a want for love. Not even love; just romance; and sex.

A few months ago, I walked home in the dark with my best friend. Above us were stars obscured by the city lights. “I love it here,” he said. “I could stay here forever.”

I asked him if he would. “No, I’ll probably go to London. That’s where my fiancée wants to be. And I guess where all the jobs are.”

I told him about my plans to move to New York, to take a road trip across America, to visit Australia, to go anywhere I could afford and anywhere that would take me. I told him how many children I would have, and when I would have them, and where they would go to school. I told him I might come to London too, if that’s where life takes me.

He always seems content, my friend, when he talks about the future. He wants security, and marriage, and a family of his own. But in that moment I could see it in his eyes: hunger. Hunger for the world the way I described it. Hunger for freedom, and adventure, and just a moment’s escape from conformity.

I wanted to squash his chubby, teenage features between my hands and yell, “It’s your life: you can do whatever you want with it! You don’t have to settle down yet!”

But I didn’t. I said, “You and your fiancée should visit me in New York some time. You can take the bed; I’ll sleep on the fire escape.”

He promised they would, but I could tell from the embers that still burned in his eyes that he wished he could instead sleep on the fire escape.

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