What’s something good in this world? Memes. And what else? Writing—and sandwiches. With this information, what must one do? Sandwich writing and memes together, and boom! Amazingness.
After one month of inactivity, I’m resurfacing with a post of referenced ideas. As one should.
A gap formed within the blogosphere during my absence, and you surely felt it. The lack of pizzaz & empty egotistical talk. I apologize for my impromptu leave—you missed me, no doubt—but life . . . You know the gist. Yada-yada-busy. Let’s get on with it.
If you blog, you write. Cue the duh. That’s perfect because I encountered a gold mine of Pinterest writer memes while I was gone, and despite my initial gaslight, girl boss, gatekeep methods, I decided sharing is caring. (Note: I’m not sharing a link to my account or board overflowing with pins. I haven’t gotten over the gatekeeping just yet.)
For those of you who don’t have a Pinterest account, I’m pasting the screenshots of the memes. It’s extra work (since apparently, WordPress can’t embed Pinterest links?! Pish posh, I tell you), so be grateful.
You’re tired of my yabbering. Let’s get on with it!
Hopefully, you found some of these funny, or else my humor is broken. I might be the only one who enjoys taking a break from writing for a laugh, but these were made by people I’ve never met, so there’s still a possibility you can relate. Let me know!
I started a story. No surprise there. But! I made a goal for said story and actually—get this—reached it before the deadline. Celebrations! Confetti! Champagne (but it’s actually apple juice)! Let me ramble about that contemporary short-story-that-might-become-a-novella real quick . . .
Guys! I cheated!
I finished it yesterday with a final WC of 10,022, but the story’s not over yet.
Okay, perhaps not entirely. I wrote 7,980 words out of my supposed 10,000 this month, but I started with 2,042 already written. The sad part is that 10k is half the original goal, but I get this confetti-sprinkled pop-up and a bunch of celebratory GIFs at the journey’s end, so what does it matter?
What Story Did You Win with, You Ask?
Why, thank you for such pleasant nosiness! [Su*cide Trigger Warning] It centers on a pastor’s kid and a girl who tries to jump off from her windowsill to end her . . . self. Surprisingly, it’s not as dark as I thought it would turn out, and the contemporary vibes are AGH. Primarily featuring Christian messages, finding your identity in the rubble, doing the right thing when the boundaries are murky, and, of course, goofy Christian friends.
If I ever doubted that contemporary was my favorite genre, my reaction to the scenes that work has sealed the deal for me.
said reaction:
I conceded to the idea on October 16, 2023—the date the Doc claims I began clickity-clackity-ing toward some semblance of a goal. After two days of minor updates, I left it alone until a random December day. I vaguely remember my dad coming home after saving this couple. The wife and her husband had been fighting, and she tried to k*ll herself, but my dad stopped them before she could and counseled them for about four to six hours.
My sisters and I prayed for them, and my heart went out to the couple. Somehow, it felt like God calling me to return to the story. But my lazy self was hardly consistent in that month. A passable excuse could be the hecticness of the season and my priorities being with school, extracurriculars, and another larger work-in-progress.
Time passed, and when I could’ve forgotten about this, I didn’t. I’m taking that as a sign, small as it might be.
Anyway, though I hit the goal, I’ll keep working on this lump of ideas and see where it goes. I may or may not mention it here since it makes me so darn happy in upcoming posts. Who knows? I would if I planned stuff. I don’t and therefore am as clueless as you. Speaking of planning . . .
I Outlined?
According to recent studies, I’m a pantser. Whenever I put my ideas to parchment, I realize even I wouldn’t read a story with that premise and then promptly lose enthusiasm.
The two lessons I need to learn:
Make better premises.
Remember that it’s just a rough replica.
Experiment!
Yes, I can count. I didn’t consciously take note of the third point of that two-point list, but I still applied it in the outlining process somehow, also unconsciously. I have four Letter-sized scrap pieces of paper to prove it. They might all be hardly a fourth filled, but that counts!
This video by Ana Neu inspired me to at least give it a shot.
As she said in the intro, her guide isn’t exhaustive. Take what may compliment your writing style, and apply it how you please. I used the “brain barf” outline style and place plotting; they’re neat and messy, and I love them. It’s also refreshing to see a young writer (with an extreme yet very authentic Australian accent) being relatable, sharing encouragement and tips openly, and building such a supportive community. She’s Christian, too, and her vlog videos are as aesthetic as they come.
But Back to the Main Topic . . .
Here’s proof, people.
It was inspired by Justin Bieber’s song “Hold On.” How does one translate electric guitar feels into a story? I have no clue, so I opted out of that the first chance I got.
A cool song, nonetheless.
Sure, it says “novella” in incoherent writing on the top-right corner of the page, but will it ever really reach that point? I say no, but we, as always, shall see.
The Place Plotting section looks empty and soulless, but the real one’s on the other page, ye of little faith.
Okay, That’s Basically It.
Nearly all my academic, extracurricular, and other-ish work is complete. I know, it’s a shock to me, too. I want to say the stress is easing out and making way for a more chill phase, but that would be a lie. A blatant lie.
How was your Camp NaNoWriMo? If you don’t know what that is or didn’t participate, how well did April treat you, and what’s up with writing?
Do you ever feel the need to say something extremely cool about yourself, but no one is asking the right questions? I sure have. To remedy that, I decided who better to ask myself what I want than me? And so this came to existence.
This is all in jest. You probably know a ton about me, but I’ve found another excuse to put the focus on me. I followed a random thought, chaos ensued, and this was born.
It’s all very unhinged, so excuse me. Behold, proof that not everything released into the blogosphere is professional and sensible.
I Meet Me from an Alternate Universe
(or something like that)
B: Hello there, Miss. [shakes interviewee’s hand] It’s a pleasure to interview you today.
Me: Thanks for the invite. What’s this for again? [sits at the chair; chains lock around wrists] Hey, wait a second—
B: I’ll ask you a series of questions you’ll need to answer honestly. If you don’t, a shock will electrocute you by my pressing this. [holds up a button and then points at chains with pen] Those chains push your wrists against a lie detector on the armrests, so choose carefully.
Me: [sigh] Of all the things to happen on a Thursday morning.
B: Now, for the first: How old are you?
Me: Why do you wanna know? Ow!
B: Questioning the questions also gets the shock.
Me: Couldn’t you have told me that before we started?!
B: Yes.
Me: Ow, stop that!
B: Answer.
Me: Somewhere between ten and twenty!
B: What’s your credit card number?
Me: Ha, ha. Nice try. I’m broke and a minor. What do you want from me?
B: Describe your your regular appearance.
Me: That’s not a question.
B: Darn it. [shuffles through cards]What’s your last name?
Me: That’s actually not much of a mystery. Do a little sleuthing and you’ll find it. [braces for shock] Oh, you didn’t press it.
B: Sadly, we didn’t account for those types of deviations.
Me: [laughs in interviewer’s face] Ha!
B: Your breath stinks. What’s your favorite food?
Me: It’s this sour Filipino soup called “sinigang.” My discord name has that word in it.
B: Care to share that discord user?
Me: Nah.
B: What grade are you?
Me: A grade level high enough to know 1 + 1 = 3 and that people who offer you free candy in exchange for a ride are the few good people on earth.
B: And that’s how you got here.
Me: And that’s how I got here, correct.
B: What was the candy?
Me: It was better: a McDonalds sundae cone.
B: I would’ve got into the van, too.
Me: As you should.
B: Let’s talk about the content you release onto your blog. Why do you say you have social anxiety when you’ve repeatedly emphasized being an extrovert? Isn’t that self-contradictory?
Me: Oof, let’s not get into my extrovertedness. I remember writing publicly about not knowing my proper MBTI, and it led to a rabbit hole into things I don’t want to remember. For now, yes, I am an extrovert because I find joy in interacting with people, but that doesn’t free me from social anxiety—what humans face when we worry about how others perceive us. It doesn’t really matter your personality. Everyone goes through that.
B: But why do you write?
Me: I haven’t the faintest clue. I saw this quote about being unable to resist giving in to a story inside of you demanding to be told, and since I don’t know who said it, let’s pretend I thought of that.
B: So you admit you plagiarize.
Me: It was a joke!
B: Are you as much a blabbermouth as you portray yourself as?
Me: First of all, that isn’t very nice. Second of all, absolutely.
B: Do you talk this weirdly in real life?
Me: Yes, sadly. I’m more formal here than in text since I’m paying attention to punctuation and word choice, but to an extent, yes. If only I’d been spared the face-to-face misunderstandings.
B: What’s a fun fact about yourself?
Me: Dying young has always been a dream of mine.
B: What’s your biggest regret?
Me: Accepting that darn sundae cone. I should’ve asked for water, too. I am parched.
B: How old are you really?
Me: We’re doing this again?
B:[lifts shock button]
Me: Kidding! Ha, I was—that wasn’t a question. That was a statement with interrogative intonation. Ignore that. I can confirm that I’m above 13 years and below 18. But no more hints.
B: Have you ever lied to your readers?
Me: Yes. No. Unintentionally. Maybe, but I don’t recall. It would be great if I got my own life wrong, though. That’d make for one laughable autobiography.
B: Where do you live?
Me: I think I’ve said this before. In the population of 118,770,782 people in the Philippines, I am one of them. That’s if minors are counted, which I am. You’ve kidnapped a minor, missy.
B: Let’s see . . .[looks through cards]Your oddest TV or celebrity crush?
Me: Barney.
B: Oh, gosh. That is concerning.
Me: He confessed to me once. He told me, “I love you, you love me.”
B: I don’t think you’re okay.
Me: [tries prying chains open with her teeth]
B:[glances around the room for nearest exits]Ignoring that, er, how? [flips card] It just says how.
Me: Sometimes you can’t help it, and other times you’ve got to convince yourself first. But as long as you can, do.
B: [silence]
Me: [stares]
B: All right. Uh.How about something less personal? What’s your favorite subject?
Me: Economics. Knowing if the economy is crashing and burning is good. Knowing how it’s deteriorating and when to clutch your pearls close is much better. I’m not knowledgeable enough about it to be aware of that, but it’s fun to pretend.
B: Who’s your favorite author?
Me: That’s tough. I’ll say N/A for now, but check this out:
Yup, That Writer Friend™️ again.
I didn’t even ask for the compliment, but she hit me with it when my immune system was down, so I got all giddy. I had to confirm if she was kidding because of the joking tone tag (/j). She meant it at the time—an accomplishment enough.
Then she took it back months later. 🥲
B: Is being the middle child as bad as the media portrays it?
Me: No, but as with any child with siblings, it had lows. That reminds me: I was learning about the Law of Cosines in Algebra and realized side “b” only comes first in 1/3 equations while side “a” snags that spot for itself 2/3 of the time. Dismissing that “c” doesn’t get a chance, gosh, side “b”‘s got it tough, doesn’t it? Literally the second choice.
And then it dawned on me that from my sisterly trio, I’m point B. My sister’s names and mine are also in alphabetical order.
B: What is a reasonable starting price for a kidnapping ransom?
Me: What?
B: What?
Me: It might be me, but that sounds awfully personal.
B: It’s just you.
Me: Fair enough.
B: [stands] Enough of these shenanigans. [grabs and lifts chair to knock Me out]
Unfortunately, I am still alive.
I kid. I totally kid. What’s something you want people to know about you that you haven’t had the opportunity to brag about? I can’t be the only one, right?
A continuation of the post previously published & a major update on my novel. Taking a break isn’t giving up, is it?
(I’m complaining again, so turn back now. Or stay to chat; whatever works.)
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Consistency is a fickle thing, so I’m taking whatever badge of accomplishment I can get. Good golly, 25,000 is a big number. Expect a writer-to-writer encouragement at the end and another post in conjunction to this one.
Drafted: 3/20/2024
We’ve come this far.
Thank you to my over-half-a-decade laptop for not giving out on me, Google Docs for not crashing, and NaNo for stressing me with my deadlines by simply existing.
To the slumps and bouts with doubting everything, you can eat my dust while you rot.
ROBIN WILLIAMS!!
A Wild Ride Indeed
There are days and weeks when you feel like a machine, chugging through 4,908 words in 15 days, which is the best run in my book, bestowing upon myself generous extra points since it was the holidays. Then comes the subsequent period when you forget all about your draft because . . . life. And school. And extracurriculars. And committee work.
Sometimes, you get discouraged, comparing yourself to people who’ve “made it”—who finished their drafts in 60 days or less, who have been writing for years, and who can juggle three drafts and other responsibilities like a champ. Those who know what they’re doing lightyears better than you.
Who are lightyears better than you.
Oops, wait a second. Wrong post. Self-deprecation is scheduled for 30 minutes from now.
Ahem, sorry about that. There’s a but meant there. Let’s try that again.
Who are lightyears better than you, but, as my Pinterest board of writing quotes says . . .
“If I waited for perfection, I would never write a word.”
Margaret Atwood
You can be sure a heartbroken me pinned those to her board after an emotional drop from thinking her writing was flawless to rereading what she wrote. Why do I mention that a lot? I never learn my lesson.
But if you’re a writer, don’t you, too? Don’t you keep writing even when you don’t believe anything you say has value? Don’t you keep writing even when it seems impossible to get anywhere with it?
As far as I know, we all go through these mental obstacles (thanks, Pinterest!). If you feel alone or discouraged, maybe remember not every short story out there is Pulitzer-prize worthy. Not every piece will become critically acclaimed.
And whatever small step you take toward completing your goal is still one step closer to THE END. If anyone hasn’t told you yet, congratulations. You’ve reached whatever point you’re in on your writing journey without becoming bald from constant hair-pulling. (I hope.)
Ultimately, the world needs more writers. We’ve stuck with this masochistic road this long, so why stop now, right?
Thank you for reading!
Future-but-pretty-much-present me here. This post is pretty outdated since I made this decision recently that, well. . . Eh, we’ll talk about that later. (Later as in, 30 minutes from now.)
If I was too vague, the “hitting 25k” part was for my Swan Lake word count. I wanted to celebrate 20k at first but somehow postponed this post long enough to reach 25k before releasing this. This is nearly a month later than its original draft on March 20 last month and then again with the new milestone on March 31, but who’s keeping track? Ha. Haha.
Now, excuse me, I must make more content for you all.
I’ve returned with Part 2! The ramblings are a little niche, and that’s because I’m barfing a month’s worth of pent-up frustration onto this post. If you’re willing to hear a stubborn, creatively blocked writer complain for 6 minutes, welcome.
My January was packed, to begin with, but insert my brain taking twice as long to process what’s in front of me because I’m mentally stuck in my draft, and you have a lovely little disaster.
I’m stressed. SL has so much potential and could be spectacular if I pull it off.
*distressed swan honks*
Nah, scrap that. Let’s opt for Plan B.
*subtly inserts an unrelated GIF*
ballet and writing
1/31/2024
I’m doing a ballet variation from Swan Lake, and in the class where I started learning it, my teacher told me my character was performing for the guests in the courtyard, and I had to acknowledge the Queen and prince at the start to pay my respects.
It was like a lightbulb dinged over my head.
The timing was immaculate; I’d come to the class stuck on a chapter for SL, but my dance gave me a creative shift in course, served to me on a silver platter. (Is God saying something?!)
Scene: Siegfried follows an inkling, which should lead to a primary plot point, but the suspense falls flat. He was practically ambling around with no strong enough motivation.
What if I switched up the location from the ballroom to the courtyard, where all guests of different ranks were gathered, plopping them smack-dab in the middle of danger—upping the stakes and potential loss? It was perfect!
rambling #8
2/1/2024
I’ve reached a milestone: showing a whopping total of three people my messy first draft. Three!
Throwing the advice of “Never show anyone your first draft” to the wind, I’ve earned an “I LOVE IT” and an “I LIKE IT” from the same person, a “DUDE 18K MY DUDE” from another, and an enthused “SWAN LAKE, SWAN LAKE, SWAN LAKE” chant from the first to have heard the title A Swan Lake Retelling (aka “that writer friend”). And get this—one of them read and reread it, which flatters me to no end, but she did so in an hour or less when I spent months slaving away to hit the 18k mark.
So, you know, whatever.
My soul is at peace.
I’m actually not 100% sure why I shared it when I’m . . . *counts finger* not even 1/3 of the way finished if my estimate is correct, but I needed an ego boost. And when you have kind writer friends who’ll tell you what you want to hear, it’s the perfect equation!
rambling #9
2/3/2024
Oh, to be young and think that 321 words in 20 minutes wasn’t a good run. Now, I can hardly reach 200 in 15 minutes. Because you know what? I’m stubborn.
I’m fully aware that the more efficient, rewarding path is plotting or plantsing, but my brain refuses to cooperate and insists on winging it. Every. Single. Writing session.
I’ve been forwarded articles on how to deal with this by generous people who share my plight, but do I listen? No!
I shouldn’t worry, though. If anything, I should learn that trial and error and a “what’s the worst that could happen?” attitude can bite back. Procrastination, in the long run, is not worth it. I’ve got to get that through my thick skull.
One day.
That is what procrastination is, isn’t it? All sunshine, sparkles, and rainbows.
update
My NaNo profile says SL’s reached 18,793 words, but the Google Doc file where I’m writing the novel says it’s at 19,141 words. We’re believing the Doc, and that’s not just for my ego. Okay? Okay.
19,141/60,000 words
10,859 words until 1/2 mark
The above list consisted of my NaNo stats in the first series of ramblings, but since I haven’t maintained a streak recently nor regularly updated my stats, I don’t have the same updates to offer. Oopsie.
But I do feel better about this. There was a time when I was bound to my stats and focused less on the writing part of writing. This is healthier, right?
rambling #10
2/6/2024
(sitch: having to incorporate a thingamajig in the story that you know nothing about)
I currently have five tabs open—a Quora, two Google searches, an image, and some other website—all dedicated to crossbow research. I’d have more if I could, but I’m afraid my 8-year-old laptop couldn’t handle it.
So, apparently, you position the weapon on your shoulder when aiming. Unlike the traditional bow and arrow, the crossbow’s string doesn’t need to be drawn back, which means the user doesn’t need to exert as much effort. In practical translation, my flimsy-armed peeps with a passion for bowhunting, this one’s for you!
(I’ve opened three more tabs here.) An arbalest/crossbow was made of wood and later substituted with metal, making it much more fearsome, and consisted of a bolt, sear, and trigger. In its original version, there was a stirrup that the crossbowman put his foot through to stabilize the weapon while he put the bow in.
Do you know what I’m talking about? I sure don’t.
🏹 Pew pew. 🏹 Pew pew pew.🏹
Ugh, why did I spend time playing with PinyPons and Barbies as a child when I could have beenfinding out about crossbows—
*smacks bloody fingers on random keys in frustration* aekakjdsafhkldhafkakjsdowuiqsjhsakhwoui
(Don’t try that at home. I summoned an app I’ve never opened when I did that.)
*inserts another obscure GIF since no one will notice*
rambling #11
Why, yes, I used a lyric for an actual line of dialogue in my draft. Laziness? Well, I like to call it “reused creativity.” (Copyright? Never heard of him.)
Ha.
Yes, I have lost the will to show anyone else my first draft.
rambling #12
What have I become? Who is this person who listens to classical music by already deceased composers? And of her own volition?!
This is why I’ve been labeled a grandma in various friend groups.
But we don’t gatekeep, so here’s some Rimsky-Korsakov for you.
You’re welcome.
Thank you for reading!
This was less relatable than Pt. 1 since it’s just me on the brink of good ol’ sanity. No uplifting ending. No encouraging message this time.
And if you’re wondering why I mentioned “bloody fingers” in the 10th ramblings, that’s because I’d punctured myself with a needle while sewing my pointe shoes before writing that. Five times, on different fingers. But the grind never stops! Huzzah! 🤺⚔
Someone restrain me.
What’s one major roadblock you’re facing with your story? Let’s hear it!
(Why is this post 1,116 words if I don’t have the strength to add 150 to my Doc? 😭)
Popping back in with a late daily prompt. My well of ideas is bone-dry, so forgive me. 🙏
What’s your dream job?
Hmm, I have been thinking about this recently.
My answer is a full-time fiction author. Shocking, isn’t it?
Then again, dreaming and taking initiative are two things altogether, and just thinking about the work to get there makes me want to curl up into a ball and fall asleep until December 2024.
But I’ll hold my horses and focus on putting one foot ahead of the other. And finishing school.
Anyway, with my family background and the job-related normality in my country, I expect writing will become a side job or a hobby when I grow older, paired with a career in the office. Or medicine, perhaps? I have no idea, and I’m eagerly waiting to see where God will open doors of opportunity.
Okay, that was super short.
But I must write something brief to let you all know I’m alive while not getting burned out with starting a post but never pushing through to posting it. Repeatedly.
I know I disappointed you, but it’s better than nothing, right? <:D
Sadly, WordPress is set to my time zone, so if you check the calendar for the day I posted this, you’ll know this was a day late.
Welp, you can’t have it all.
Shh, you never knew that.
Oh, how am I? Why, thank you for asking!
I type this on my phone in the car on the way to visit a farm. My Christmas was not chill (nor chilly—snow is nonexistent here, and I might have mentioned that three times on my blog already) but not jam-packed. I’m contented. God is good.
Of course, the need to update my draft will be looming over my head the whole trip. I definitely need to get the hang of the writing life. Do I have an hour to spare every day to work on my WIPs? Haha. Hahah- *cries*
*sniff* Of course, I do; everyone does. I just seem to have misplaced mine. I’ll go looking for it later, but until then, no more excuses. Face the problems head on!
Enough about me. Tell me, my dear readers: did you have a merry little Christmas? 😃
🎶 Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree 🎵
Ignore the typos. Merry Christmas again!
Now, listen to the Spotify playlist I made with my mother’s account. Go.
Go spread Christmas cheer! Read A Christmas Carol! Shoo!
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Oh, you’re still here. Okay, about that Caraval review thingy—I’m delaying it. I have to get the second book, so it’ll seem like I had a reason to push the date back so far. It is on its way. Definitely. For sure.
For those who don’t know, Swan Lake—which I might call SL or A Swan Lake Retelling—is the romantasy novel I’ve been working on. It follows Siegfried and Odette as they navigate through an arranged marriage and a rocky past. But circumstance isn’t the only thing out of them; it seems a vengeful outcast wants more than just freedom . . .
Narrated by a rambling, elusive sorceror. A story of love, magic, and . . . well, swans & lakes.
Drafted and Forgotten: 12/22/2023
Yep, Swan Lake. That WIP I started earlier this year and didn’t take seriously at first. I am now working to complete it to say I wrote a novel once in my lifetime.
Boy, did all those articles I read do nothing to prepare me for the absolute joy and horror of writing the first draft. 11 chapters in, I’ve executed virtually zero out of a thousand things I aim to convey. The high of typing the words on the keyboard; the low of accidentally rereading your brain barf and finding a million and one plot holes. The bursts you get after imagining what its polished version would look like. The slumps where you can’t get more than 300 words on the page in one sitting—it’s different when you actually experience it.
In short, the journey’s been wild, you guys.
I’ve wanted to share glimpses of the bumpy ride for a while, but they didn’t come out enough for the regular length of a blog post each, and I didn’t think you’d like reading two sentences passed up as a post.
But I delivered! I scrounged up a few to reach a reasonable length, so I hope you enjoy it.
rambling #1
The frustration of knowing who your characters are to the T and dying to show your audience how lovable or horrible they are when you’re not yet at the scene where there’s the reader’s determining that “Oh, yeah, I definitely like/hate him/her” hits hard.
update
I created a NaNo account to track my progress and force myself to reach deadlines to form some semblance of achievement. The most recent deadline I’ve been working on is hitting the 30K mark by December 31, which was a foolish decision. It’s the Christmas season, and I can’t—cannot—lose my streak. I have relatives from abroad coming over, impromptu trips, school deadlines, and what was I thinking?!
But it wasn’t too terrible an idea because yesterday I came home at 11PM after going to a theme park where I realized my athleticism needs a lot of work (but I’ll deal with that later; right now, I need to shut myself in a room and just write—) and attending a family dinner get-together. I was dead tired but slogged away for 20 minutes and got 321 words onto the page, so yay. That’s 321 words closer to The End. *fist punches air weakly*
NaNoStats as of December 24(in the website’s words)
“total words: 13948/30000”
“8 days in a row”
“The early bird gets the worm! You write the most between 11:00AM and 12:00PM!”
“You’ve written mostly at home!”
“On average, you write 181 words per day!”
“At this rate, you’ll be done on March 23, 2024!” (Ouch.)
“Your average writing speed is 10 words per minute!”
“Nice! Looks like you felt pretty good working on this goal!”
The NaNo site has got to be perky and overuse its exclamation points while it reminds me of how much the opposite of on-time I am with my novel, huh? Isn’t that fun?
Oh, but writing a romance is a whole different story. I don’t know how I feel about that.
confession
Fantasy is tiring to write. Thank goodness I’m only learning the ropes because I’ll turn over in my grave before releasing this less than a decade after I finish the draft and improve myself as a writer. And the improvement must make you guys gasp and wonder if it’s even me.
I’m serious. I think.
It’s imperfect. So much so that I hardly even glance at the words as I type them because I have to get it over with while I’m still in the fEeLz.
rambling #3
Writing is messy. I once woke up believing I’d finished writing a chapter, only to discover I did . . . but in my head.
Internal pain. Suffering. Tears I shed in my imagination.
RIP to that chapter because I’m avoiding getting it done at all possible costs for no justifiable reason.
rambling #4
I’m bound to that streak. It’s Duolingo all over again. (Plot twist! After I lost my 52-day streak, he captured me, and I’ve been writing from his basement ever since. I can hear his flippers waddling in threat above me. SOS!)
rambling #5
The pain of knowing those who meet your children, or, er, I mean,characters, might not love them as much as you do is unbearable. 🤧 I’ve nursed these people into being, you heartless creatures. What more dost thou require?!
rambling #6
Looking back at previous chapters, I noticed that my writing style changed. (That’s looking back, but not reading through it since my ego has endured enough already. Thank you very much.)
The (tedious? lengthy?) journey to finalize this reads like a fictitious documentation of my growth as a writer, which makes it painful to even skim through, but nevertheless. I remember updating my Docs right after getting discouraged from a ballet class and working on it cheered me right up.
Maybe even if I don’t finish this by my set time, I’ll leave with something I worked hard on—finished or unfinished, polished or unpolished.
But I’ve come too far to even try giving up. And I have an issue with giving up, so in your face, procrastination!
Thank you for reading!
And after that venting, this is still pretty short. Man, I should write down my weird ramblings when they come.
Let me know if I should do a part two with those and some others coz your friendly blogger here has much work to do this ho-ho-holiday season. 😛
PS I’ve been out of practice, and you’ve probably noticed. Oopsie. Sorry if this flowed more chunkily than my other posts. I’m working to release better and more consistent content, so don’t you worry, my fine fellows.
A Christian Kid's Journal 