February 2012
45 posts
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What Lot's Wife Would Have Said (If She Wasn't A...
eating-poetry:
Do you remember when we met in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless, and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing you, when we were young, and blushed with youth like bruised fruit. Did we care then what our neighbors did in the dark?
When our first daughter was born on the River Jordan, when our second cracked her pink head from my body like a promise, did...
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Despite my respect for people, I still do, as a teacher and a reader, value standard English, at least as a touchstone for writers to have in mind.
If one person spells a standard word in an unusual way, it’s a typo or maybe a quirk. If a whole region or community use that spelling as their normal spelling, I can accept it as part of “an English” that is not standard English. I...
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I'm fabulously self indulgent in this story I'm...
sweethermieharmony:
The hug, that first hug. MINDBLOWING
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herm-anna37:
I am writing a story…third in a series of five, I believe…and it calls for a song.
So I just wrote the song.
~feeling of not sucking too badly right now~
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iwillthinkofanewurllater:
You will all be happy/horrified to know that I’ve started a Sherlock ficlet
I mean
there are about 2 sentences, but the whole story is up in my brain once I’ve caught up with my T&B schedule
Ivan, I don’t know how you manage to be so freakin’ productive. ~wonderstruck~
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Musings on the subject of CONTEXT in fiction
herm-anna37:
For a lit major, there are some things that demand a proper exposition and contextualization…that’s a word that keeps coming up in my mind in so many situations, CONTEXT.
Words can be so slippery, because they’re so subject to interpretation. Just like a joke, sometimes one needs to get the proper setup for the humor to come across.
For me, I think the idea of context is...
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I do get really tired of all of the...
oneironautical:
missvoltairine:
and especially of depression, because it’s like, depression is, I feel, my BIGGEST OBSTACLE to productivity and creative self-expression.
Like, if I had to write a song while in a depressive episode, it would go:
I’m not getting up
I’m not getting up
fuck you
I’m not getting up
that’s my song.
And certainly, mental illness has/does inform a lot of my...
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aforaffort:
I never expected to see her again, to be honest, and it even got to the point where I didn’t want to see her again. It had been years, eight years and some months, in fact, and I had actually moved on by some divine miracle. Well, some of the credit should go to my therapist, to be fair. I didn’t stop loving her—how could I? But I stopped expecting her to call. I stopped expecting...
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“When I said I wasn’t with another girl
the January after we fell in love for...”
– Jon Sands, A Working List of Things I Will Never Tell You
Still kills me.
(via holdonmagnolia)
Aaaand I’m crying. ;___;
(via unknowablewoman)
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How to write a kiss
snazzycookies:
Rebloggable version, as requested by davrosbro. :)
Oooh! Yes! I love kisses. Kisses are where it all starts ;).
Okay, first, remember that a kiss is much, much more than just lips. It is lips, but also tongues, teeth, eyes, faces, hands, noses, bodies, heartbeats, breath, voice- and most importantly, a kiss is emotions. A kiss without emotion is just wet mushy lips stuck...
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darkest-alchemy:
I was just thinking about how unconvincing I find many heterosexual relationships in fiction (I’m referring really to just written fiction here).
And I know this depends on what you read and probably on the sex/gender of the main characters (and pretty much everything I’ve read in who knows how long only has male main characters); probably it even depends on your own sexual...
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Watchhopeydopey526:
jennaanne01:
Heart (Original Song)
“So you’re gay?” That’s what they say, in a frazzled state. My hands are tied my mouth is wide they look to me. There’s confusion I’m improving my way. Because I’m learning how to reply when I speak. They always ask me how I know who I am. As if I need some kind of test or an exam. My mouth is sure and it’s able, my words on the table, ...
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I wrote a song about dinosaurs
rhymemeariver:
Ornithicia song
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I always endorse rhymemeariver mentally; I really should do the same here more often. I think this is marvy.
HEY SERIOUSLY do you have music for this, or can i write some for it???!??!?!
I am not kidding. I’d dig that.
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Art and Euphoria
nilecrocodile:
other-side-of-the-universe:
It has gotten to where spending hours on something, especially something that is extremely difficult (acrylic painting - for me, anyway), and then finishing that something has become my ultimate source of euphoria.
I’ve had people tell me that art isn’t work because it’s fun, and none of those people have been artists. But still - they don’t...
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aforaffort:
So it’s come to this, I thought as I walked out of the house towards her. She stood with a nervous smile. It seemed genuine, nonetheless, and I felt some deep knot within me twist uncomfortably. “I, uh,” I coughed, making my way to the back of the car, “this is the last one.”
“Thanks.”
I put the box in and shut the door. I turned to look at her, wondering briefly if I should...
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I'm fabulously self indulgent in this story I'm...
sweethermieharmony:
The hug, that first hug. MINDBLOWING
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Hey Trey, thanks for following. BTW I'm totally...
treyfuckingcasen started following you
Hermie says Gracias.
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emptymanuscript:
writersbane:
Imagination and Inspiration
Imagination is the real and eternal world of which this vegetable universe is but a faint shadow.
WILLIAM BLAKE
An idea, like a ghost, must be spoken to a little before it will explain itself.
CHARLES DICKENS
If writers had to wait until their precious psyches were completely serene there wouldn’t be much writing done.
...
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Lady E submitted:
teacupsandcyanide:
Holmes was home,
his fiddles’ weary drone,
plodding through figures and facts.
Holmes number two,
(who rather needed the loo),
popped in for a jolly old chat.
Sherlock was peeved,
Mycroft just peed,
then he sat down with usual tact.
Sherlock just glared,
Mycroft just stared,
his stick standing straight as his back.
Then like the dawn,
All their tension was gone,
...
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Watchspecial-k-art:
summmerrose:
korse:
sparklefap:
proverbial-straight-jacket:
nicotinerampage:
nobodysurvives:
glorious-voorhees:
omg
omfg, my English teacher showed us this video on Friday. This guy is my spirit animal.
omfg i love this <3
That makes me want Sonic real bad xD I’ve always wanted to do something like this
good
MY ABS GOT A WORK OUT OMFG LOL
i’m dying, i...
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Is Identifying a Person’s Age Necessary? →
writersbane:
((by Mark Nichol))
In writing, should a given person’s age be specified?
In fiction, the number of years since a character was born is of variable importance, depending on the person’s prominence in the narrative and on the nature of the story as well, but at the very least, the author usually provides some clue, at least, as to approximate age.
But in keeping with the creative...
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approachingnormal asked: Hi there ! Saw your post...
lappeldu-vide:
iamilex:
iamilex:
Hi! Sorry this took me so long to get back to you. I’m kind of stupid about my ask box. And then I had to think about what to recommend to you. This fandom has a lot of brilliant fanfic and fanart in it. Some of the best I’ve seen, in fact. I had to go back through my bookmarks and choose some of my favorites. Hopefully these will get you started.
Er, it...
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January 2012
28 posts
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“He wants them to learn to walk and must therefore take away His hand; and if...”
– Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis (via themoonisgreen)
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aforaffort:
None of you care about this because it’s from a play and also it’s entirely in French.
(The very ending of Les Caprices de Marianne, by Alfred de Musset. ~~nearly 200-year-old spoilerzz~~)
All you need to know is that this is my favourite play and I am Octave.
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WTH I don’t care about French drama?? You kidding, sibling?!
No. Read this and be filled with...
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"Mezzanine," a Johnlock fic
iwillthinkofanewurllater:
but-its-the-solar-system:
John was afraid for Sherlock, he really was. His face when they talked by the fire was haunting: his cheekbones seemed more hollow than usual and his eyes were wild with pupils the size of saucers. “There is nothing wrong with me,” Sherlock had shouted defensively, but both of them knew that wasn’t true. He was terrified but too smug to...
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