what they donāt tell you about being a writer is that returning to a long fic you havenāt touched in a while means rereading 50k words first because you donāt actually remember your own fics that well

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@thisvictoriangirl
what they donāt tell you about being a writer is that returning to a long fic you havenāt touched in a while means rereading 50k words first because you donāt actually remember your own fics that well

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i know ai won't win because i broke my favorite mug.
the lines on the bottom say do not microwave but i have been microwaving it for 7 years now. i put it away wet and it must have slid off the counter. it broke into 6 pieces. my girlfriend says this is proof a ghost that lives in my house; particularly because it is a black mug with a ouija board design. i think it is proof that i should dry things before i put them away.
i had superglue from an abandoned art project. it took me four days. inspired by kintsugi, i painted the seams golden. it is my first time doing anything like this, and it was more error than trial. i do not have any fancy materials. there is a thick band of gold across the no, so it reads like a diphthong now, N\O. a part of it broke in an almost-perfect peace sign, oddly round.
it will not be watertight anymore, it cannot be a mug. i'll reuse it as a flower pot. it will go on my back porch. it is kind of ugly, really. i didn't do an excellent job.
i spent every minute of this repair thinking about how often i had used it. how many little rituals it has been a part of. it is a big mug, but not a soup mug, which i loathe. it is perfect for two hands to hold. i have used it almost daily, so often that many of the details have worn off. my own skin did that - almost a decade of shared warmth.
none of the times i have told this story has a single person said what do you mean you have a favorite mug. not a single person who has seen the resulting half-maimed piece has said why would you put that back together? not a single person has said this is a waste of time. not a single person has told me what's the point of this? if you want to find a new mug, just use AI.
somewhere someone is probably using AI to draw an image or write a poem, i know that is true. but i think it is also probably true that most of us are going to write and read and draw and dance just because. that the process of doing so is not for a goal or a specific benefit, but because for thousands of years now - when a piece of pottery breaks, we try to fix it. for thousands of years - long before capitalism had any say in it - humans have been doing things just for the experience of it. for the fuck of it. for the love of the game.
ai is not going to win because i cut my thumb while i did it. ai is not going to win because i kept thinking about my all friends who do ceramics, how they're always asking me if i want to join them for a lesson. i was thinking about every person i've ever shared a coffee with. i was thinking about who i was when i bought this mug (graduate student. could barely afford the off-season thing on clearance). i was thinking about how many hands have held this, how many people i've been since.
ai is not going to win because i didn't do a perfect job of it.
my sister-in-law and i recently had a conversation about how one of her coworkers uses Chat instead of reading self-help books. and we both looked at each other about that, the stunned silence of rabbits. "can you imagine?" we said. what's even the point to it.
did i tell you? i had this dream once. we as the earth decided that for one moment, we'd all go outside and sing. any note we wanted, any way. it could be a howl or a scream or a high c. the noise we made together - it was the most beautiful harmony. this, i thought. this is the natural state of things.
Someday your hands will be old and wrinkled, the skin spotted and bunching over your knuckles. And a child will watch you make something. It's a simple task, you'll have done it a thousand times before. But to that child, the smooth, confident way your hands move will seem like impossible magic. You have to keep living.
I love it when fan fiction writers are like: āah shit, this was meant to be one part but I started writing it and now it has to be threeā. Like the fanfic is happening to them and not being created by them.
kill the imposter syndrome in your head because not only is there someone out there doing it worse than you, theyāre also using chat gpt to do it

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KILL AI AND REBLOG AND CREATE ART IN 2026
āstart your free trial nowā what if i told u i am already experiencing trials. and the cost is more than i can bear
they should invent a grief that doesnāt define you in new and strange ways for the rest of your life
alt text: screenshot of a reply by artesian-diff saying "to do that, they'd have to invent a love that doesn't define you for the rest of your life, i think." below this is an image of a person screaming with their hand covering their eyes and forehead. end of alt text.
wait by Faraj Bou al-Isha tr. Khaled Mattawa
thinking aboutĀ āyou havenāt met all the people who will love youā and like!!! you also havenāt found all the things that will make you happy!!!! there will always be new authors and musicians and artists whose work you will one day discover and love!!!! there will always be new hobbies and skills for you to learn and feel fulfilled by!!! there will always be new things around the corner that will bring sudden and unexpected happiness!!!!!!!!!!!

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non-writers will never understand the mental illness of writing an entire conversation in your head while doing dishes and then forgetting every word the second you open a blank doc
Love the word "also". I have more things to say
thatĀ āpakige?ā post but me, a couple hours after posting a fic, likeĀ ācomints?ā
F5 F5 F5
⦠F5 F5 F5 F5F5F5F5F5
reblog if women with swords

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summer vacation
Computer. Iris by the goo goo dolls. Loud enough to kill.