Wanna see how far you can run? Wanna train to run a marathon or a 5k or whatever it is running-people do?
Find a tree.
Dora Reads is the book blog of a Bookish Rebel, supporting the Diversity Movement, bringing you Queer views and mental health advocacy, slipping in a lot of non-bookish content, and spreading reading to the goddamn world! :)
Wanna see how far you can run? Wanna train to run a marathon or a 5k or whatever it is running-people do?
Find a tree.
There's a lot of writing advice out there. Like, a lot.
So much so in certain online spaces that sometimes you wonder if anyone's not writing about writing.
But then, I'm writing a blogpost for a sub-series called 'The Writer Diaries' so I'm clearly standing in a glass house and holding a rock, about to lob it over my head. 😅
A lot of the writing advice I've seen around on the *waves hands* general interwebs lately has been about writing routines.
Which wouldn't be a problem - writing routines help a lot of people.
Except more than a few of them have given me the general impression of 'OMG if you don't have a writing routine then you're writer-ing wrong!'
And? Honestly? F**k that.
So weird.
"Holy sh**!"
These are the words I've just written on paper. Hand-written, in ballpoint pen, in my multi-coloured Crayola notebook (all the cool kids have them! 😉😎)
They're words I've given to one of the characters from my Work in Progress (WIP), Dan, as he realises something ground-breaking that makes everyone look at the situation entirely differently.
...It's a sentiment I fully endorse, because I have no clue where this plot twist came from.
And, with wide eyes, my only statement at this moment can only be an echoed, 'Holy sh**.'
(Only I can't swear because my mother, so it was more like 'Holy...' and then trailing off.)
(Warning: this post discusses Coronavirus/Covid 19)
On a personal level, January sucked. Bad.
My beautiful Nan got Covid, and combined with her other health problems, despite the fact that she had very few symptoms, we nearly lost her.
There are very few things more distressing than watching someone you love slowly fade away via video link.
Honestly? If you're STILL not taking Coronavirus seriously, you can fuck the hell off.
And, dearest nerdlets, you know how upset I have to be to swear without censoring myself.
I really wanna delete a few letters and add *s, but I'm not gonna, cos despite the fact that I'm a nice well-brought-up Welsh girl, that's how annoyed I am, and how much you suck if you're one of the selfish people who still isn't taking precautions.
There's a couple of random things about writing that I've realised lately while working on my Work-In-Progress (WIP.)
I dunno whether this is me becoming more self-aware of my patchwork writing process -
(I write in snippets and then attempt to stick them together... with varying results)
- or whether everyone knows/has realised these things and I'm just now catching up (let me know!), but I figure'd I'd blog about them anywho! 😅
(Warning: this post briefly discusses overthinking and Anxiety/Depression)
In its previous life, my WIP, written by teenage-Cee over a decade ago, was melodramatic as f**k.
As in, there were kidnappings, and murders, and guns, and a secret child, and... if you can think of a plot-twist, it was probably in there. Plus a few more for luck.
And while the current version of These Ghosts of Ours is much, much, less ballistic, the memory of that previous version has left me constantly questioning the emotion-y bits and plot developments.
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| Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay |
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| Image by Pexels from Pixabay |
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| We win flags, ok? |
4th November