of all the things i regret
the thing i regret the most
is that i have regrets
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@writingbydaph
of all the things i regret
the thing i regret the most
is that i have regrets

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“you can’t forget your mother tongue” okay but have you considered bilinguals and polyglots whose first language isn’t english and whose development during adolescence was shaped by consuming content and media only in english and have ever since viewed that second language, foreign to their own, as a better outlet for their emotions and thoughts? as Yiyun Li said “it is hard to feel in an adopted language, yet impossible in my native language.”
This post just strolled into my living room, dragged me off the couch and broke all my toes.
Just putting this out there because my mother’s tongue isn’t English but I have been writing in English since I was about 14 and realized that writing in my native language just wasn’t working.
“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”
A little doodle for one the most beautiful lines from any poem, The Old Astronomer.
This is not a little doodle. This. THIS. This is fucking MAGIC. You have captured pure wonder and whimsy and romance and bliss and that almost melancholy wholeness when you look up at the sky and just feel the smallness of your being and the grandness of the universe. All this captured with a lover’s eye. We cannot see her face but I feel the tender passionate ardour for this petite but mighty creature in the world. While at the same time I feel the bittersweet swoon of wanting to be gazed upon myself with such whole and overwhemling admiration and love. It is goddamn masterful.
I am fucking following your tumblr charliebowater you are amazing.
THAT’S THE NICEST COMMENT I’VE EVER READ.
Heads Up, Seven Up
i’ve been tagged by: @zmlorenz @ardawyn @ev–writes @inkchantress @rainbowcoloreddays @rewrit and @stardustspiral! thank you all! :)
here are the last seven lines i wrote from The Gloaming Girls.
Emory is still thinking. I can see it in the taut pull of her jaw, the furrow in her brows as she stares down at the tear in the napkin, brooding.
“Okay.” I stick my spoon in my ice cream and lean back in my chair. “You need to chill out. Let me be a rubber duck.”
Emory looks up, like I’ve started speaking in a different language. “Huh?”
“I read about it in my history textbook. Technical thinkers used to put rubber ducks by their desks to talk their problems through before taking it to another person.”
“What’s a rubber duck?”
I squint at her. “You know, little, yellow, some of them squeak when you squeeze them?”
Emory blinks. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
i’m tagging: @viawrites-andacts @leah-yasmin-writes @anxiousacebooks @paxtonwrites and whoever else sees this and wants to post their own last 7 lines!
I AM going to write today

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hey. keep writing
“It was November – the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines.”
— L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables (via simplybookdrunk)
sometimes writing a novel feels like trying to hold an entire pot’s worth of warm oatmeal in your hands without letting any of it hit the ground no i will not explain
Person A: “Fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck fuck!”
Person B: “Very eloquent addition, thank you.”
POWEROUS
I don’t know what this is correcting but it sure fucking isn’t “clarity”

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”
— L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
Turn Off The Music.
I’m scared to turn off the music because that would leave me with nothing but my thoughts screaming at me and not button to turn down the volume. I’m scared to pick up pen and paper because that would mean confronting not only the screams but also the whispers. So I keep putting loose sentences into my notes app, loosing them between shopping lists and recipes, unable to stick with one long enough to actually change anything. This I foolishly thought to be the only reason for creating. And when I actually do pick up a pen and paper in a rare moment of complete and utter silence the only thing manifesting in ink is another problem, a fear I thought I’d overcome, a desire for more than whatever it is i don’t have and the whispers and screams start to intertwine and keep spinning around tied together by yellow lines with absolutely no end in sight except for forcing them to remain still for the next three minutes and twenty, until I’m ready to face them again.
I just like this a lot
How can I make a kissing scene/emotional scene feel intimate and personal? I really struggle with that. I want it to be just between two people, their moment.
Creating Intimacy in A Scene...
I’ve created a lot of focused resources on creating intimacy in a scene, enhancing romantic tension, etc. so I’ve made an organized, comprehensive list from my masterlist which will help you create that moment you’re looking for.
Romance-Specific Resources
How To Write The Perfect Kiss
How To Make A Scene More Heartfelt
Resources For Romance Writers
Resources For Writing YA Fiction/Romance
Filtering Out Cliches
Emotion & Intimacy
Resources For Describing Emotion
Connecting To Your Own Characters
Conveying Emotions
When To Use “Felt”
Calculating Emotional Reactions
Writing Intense Scenes
Technical Skills That Come in Handy
How To Perfect The Tone
A Guide To Tension & Suspense
Ultimate Guide To Symbolism
General Dialogue Advice
Using Vocabulary
How To Engage The Reader
Showing VS Telling in First Person POV
Specific Relationship Dynamics to Consider
Tips On Writing Skinny Love
Guide To Writing Friends To Lovers
Guide To Writing Enemies To Lovers
Guide To Writing Faded Love
Guide To Writing Will-They-Won’t-They
Guide To Writing Forbidden Love
–
Masterlist | WIP Blog
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What do you think all writers have in common?
an overwhelming and insatiable longing for something more than this
listen the only person stopping you from writing 4 pages of description is yourself
I feel kind of called out

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
being a writer is just like *idea* *imposter syndrome* *fear of people reading your work* *fear of people Not reading your work* *a single aesthetic* *idea*
Fear of people reading your work and fear of people not reading your work at the same time is both hilarious and anxiety inducing lmao
Happy Meet and Greet Monday! How would your characters answer the question "So what do you like to do for fun? Any interesting hobbies, or...?"
Hello, thanks for sending in the ask, and sorry it took me such a long time to answer! I actually just saw it.
Layla: She writes. Not stories, usually, but poems and slam poems. Sometimes songs, too. She also likes to read and listens to a lot of music, and can talk for hours about different poems (specifically ones over a 100 years old) and their meanings :)) Likes psychology.
Alec: He draws, paints, takes photos. He also will debate you on almost anything and loves the Romantic era in art (loves art history) and literary classics. Would talk philosophy with you if you wanted to. Also speaks four languages fluently and wants to learn more.
Ray: He plays the guitar (classic, also a bit to base and the ukulele), the piano and the violin, all of which he taught himself. He also sings beautifully, but couldn’t for the life of him actually write a song. He listens to almost every genre, and it’s really rare for him not to have some song playing in his head. He loves space.
Aria: She’s a runner. Like, a track runner, and she loves it. She loves freedom and she loves to be in nature (more than anything, she loves the woods), which is why she’ll find any opportunity she can to leave NYC for a bit and go on a trip to somewhere that has trees or a mountain. Nothing makes her happier than running somewhere with no other people, and with nature around her.