wouldn't it be lovely?

Miami and the Gold Coast (in Aus)

New Zealand and Oregon

The great plains and the Russian steppe

India and fiji

Napa Valley, California and Tuscany, Italy

Appalachians in America and the Grampians in Australia

Black sand beach in Iceland and New Zealand

Aurora borealis and australis

Congo and Amazon rainforest/river

Mountains in France and Korea

There are going to be days (or weeks, or months) where you sit down to write and feel... disconnected. From your voice, from your characters, from your ideas. Like the person who used to write your stories just packed up and left.

They didn't. They're just tired. Here's how to keep writing anyway:

Lower the bar (Until it's on the floor) You are not here to write something brilliant. You are here to write something. A paragraph. A sentence. A single line of dialogue. Movement matters way more than quality.

Write around the story Don't force it. If you can't write the scene, try: ⋆ A character ramble / journal entry ⋆ A conversation that won't be included in the final draft ⋆ A list of things the character would never admit out loud ⋆ A messy summary of what should happen Engage with the story from a different angle.

Borrow a voice until yours comes back No, not with AI. Read something that feels close to what you want to write, or watch a scene that captures the tone, then write immediately after. Not to copy, to reignite your instincts.

Write the emotion, not the plot. What is your character feeling in this moment? What are they afraid of? What do they want but won't say? What's being kept from them? The emotion leads, the plot catches up later.

Stop trying to "feel like a writer" first. You don't write when you feel like a writer. You feel like a writer because you write.

They were in Vegas, on the same roof top as all these years ago at the end of their rookie season.

Shane rolled his eyes with a fond smile and looked out over the illuminated skyline.

"I still can't believe you kissed me here."

"Oh, you can't?" another drag with a smirk.

"Someone could've seen us! I still don't-" Shane drew his brows together. Thinking something over. Ilya was well aquainted with his face when he disected something in his brain.

"What was up with you that night? You weren't jealous that I won." He stated it as a fact. And no, Ilya hadn't been. And now Shane knew him well enough that he realised that.

"No." He finished the cigarette and took a deep breath of night air.

"I was miserable because it was the first time going back to russia. My new life, my new...freedom-" he shrugged "it all felt like it was about to go away." Ilya's eyes found Shane's. "And then you came up here. With your freckles and your pretty eyes and suggested we fuck-"

"I did not!"

"Mhmm" Ilya pulled his lips to one side and tilted his head left and right. "Is what you wanted, Hollander."

"I-" Shane pauses because. Well, yes. But he made it sound so impersonal. It had been, kind of. But- ugh. "I guess."

Ilya grinned and came slowly towards him.

"It made me realise all the things I could never have." Shane was frowning at the explanation but his features softened when Ilya's hands found his hips. "But now look at me."

Ilya leaned in to kiss him and Shane's arms wrapped around him like muscle memory.

"Kissing my husband and is okay when someone sees." Shane let his forehead fall against Ilya's.

"Sorry I didn't know that then."

Ilya lifted his head to look at him, down the line of his nose with his eyes half closed and soft.

"It is okay, Shane." he dipped in for another kiss. "You can suggest we fuck now."

The leading man puts you on a pedestal. His virginal, untouched, angelic - not like all the other girls girl.

As if being like all the other girls was a crime.

As if liking pink, or wanting to curl your hair - as if wanting to be feminine equates to being vapid.

I should know - I used to think that way. Inspired by lead characters like Bella Swan or Hermione Granger who were not like the other girls - who wore plaid, and hated shopping, who was clever above all else - I was somehow better than the girls who did.

But now more and more we see girls who like villains.

Rey who liked Ben Solo - because with him she was not a virginal Mary Sue. With him she was dark and light and she chose to balance it. With him she was someone who can feel attraction, desire something normal. With him she was not alone.

Alina Starkov who fell in love with Aleksander Morozova because he told her she was more than what she hid herself in. She was the sun, and she deserved to shine. With him she was powerful. With him she was alive.

And now recently Heather Nill who was attracted to Ray Hall. Ray who liked her when she flew, unlike her friend who keeps stopping her. The bad guy who believed she could.

No longer do we like the canonically nice men who expect us to be perfect, their little angels, to be cherished and protected. We are starting to like those the old world labelled villains for looking at a woman and saying yes, you are capable of so much more.

I'd rather a man who worships at my altar of my hips, than a man who scorns me for being less than perfect.