Tag Archives: Writers Block

The Ultimate Writing Resource Masterpost

This ultimate post is incredible, so of course I want to share it with my dear followers. I found it here.

This is an ultimate masterlist of many, many resources that could be helpful for writers/roleplayers.

→ GENERAL

Improvement

Describing

Masterlists

Body Language

Grammar/Vocabulary

Writer’s Block

→ APPLICATIONS

Application (Itself)

Para (Sample)

Prompts

→ GUIDES

Personalities

Disorders

Disabilities

Jobs/Hobbies/Beliefs

Drugs

Locations

Genders

Supernatural

Other

→ CREATING CHARACTERS

Biography Writing

Names

Personalities

Personality Traits

Habits

Secrets

Quotes

Mary Sue’s

→ WHILE ROLEPLAYING

Para Titles

Starters

Careers/Jobs

Locations/Settings/Activities

Character Developement

→ ROMANCE

Romance (in general)

Smut

Kisses

→ OTHER

Plot Writing

Eras

Phoenix in the water, pt. 2

I’m not quite done with this idea, so here comes a little more.

That really wasn’t a good idea. Wet footprints lead from the pond to her bedroom. Thank God she had saved up enough to get a single-room. Sharing the story of how she fell into the water would certainly not help on her mood. Damn fish-bird. With the already down she twisted out of the soaked rags and hurried into the bathroom. Cold water poured out, but it was still warmer than her blue lips. She’d have to get up earlier to catch up with the homework she was supposed to do tonight. That didn’t really matter. All that was in her head was the slight burning sensation of blood returning to her skin. Washing out some dirt that managed to get in her hair there was absolutely nothing on her mind. Just her and the water.

Doo-wee-doo! Ugh, god damn Doctor Who. Creatively cursing her choice of alarm tone she half slid, half rolled out of bed and managed to get across the room where she’d hidden her phone. “Frodo traveled to Mordor with The Ring, you can get out of bed!” Mission accomplished. Still pretty drowsy she put on some rags and turned on the excuse of a TV. No interesting news today. A suspected arsenal case in the neighbor town. The owner seemed to have found a fine mixture between shocked, devastated and furious. Selling religious artifacts sure seemed to piss someone off. The rest of the world seemed like the mess it was yesterday.

A vibration and a muffled sound came from somewhere between the couch’s cushions. Fishing up her phone she read the concise SMS. “This is an automatic notification. The following books are due within the next 24 hours. ‘John GreenLooking for Alaska‘ and ‘Markus ZusakThe Book Thief‘. Have a pleasant day.” The books war still lying next to her bed. She’d thought she could finish them both, but school continued to occupy her time. Not even considering all the time she spent fixing Josh’ problems. With only about a hundred pages left she figured she could finish the book before diving into her homework. Grabbing an apple from her desk and “Looking for Alaska” from the floor she made herself comfortable in the couch again.

The mentioning of the Smoke Hole reminded her of their own pond. That fish, or bird, or whatever was truly fascinating. It couldn’t be real though? She’d never seen anything like it, but admittedly creatures in the water wasn’t her speciality. Maybe she could draw it down. At least it would make a great picture. No, she had to focus. Book, then homework, then Josh. I could never live by a scheduleshe thought with a little chuckle, and turned the page.

I have to end it here. I’ve actually come up with a great idea for this little story of mine, but I’m going to be strict with myself. Only one hour of writing a day, no more, no less. Hope you’ll enjoy my attempt at writing!

P.S.
I made a couple of links so you can check up those books. They are incredibly beautiful and definitely worth reading.

 

Phoenix in the water

“Write every day” is a tips I never stop hearing. Yet, it probably has some truth to it. This is my effort for today. If you like it so far, give me a little sign and I’ll try to work on it tomorrow.

 

The school campus was quite. It was the time between a well deserved rest and the realization that it was a Friday night. Most were forcing themselves to finish the last task for tonight, at it made the air quite and full of thoughts.

The pond was still moving after the stone hit the surface. One, two, plop. She had to work on that. A small chill, I should get my jacket. Not yet, the piece could be broken any moment and she wanted to preserve this memory. Hmm, a faint sight. Winter was certainly coming, the air started to be a little more chill and the dark came fast. 18:34. Looking up from her watch she saw something in the water.

A light glittering, from under the water. Leaning over she could see it clearly, but what was it? It seemed like a golden phoenix, only smaller and under water. As far as she knew, birds didn’t swim under water. This one did, and so gracefully. Right and left, down and upwards, entertaining its viewer endlessly. A sudden chill went through her body and she realized she’d put her fingers in the water. The bird didn’t run away, so she kept reaching down. And just as she felt the silk feathers it turned its head and looked into her eyes, blank. Grey, the bird lost its color! She grasped for it, lifting it up, but it was heavy. Too heavy. She rolled into the water and lost grip of the bird. Ice cold water, stiff body, automatically she swelled the sharp air and found the spot she was seconds ago. Cursing the cold weather she remembered why she fell into the water and searched the water. It was long gone, and so was her plan to meet Josh after school tomorrow if she got a fever.

 

The Hardest Part

The most frustrating part of writing is when you have an inspirational moment or thought, you can’t sit down and write, but when you do the thought is gone. It’s not like it actually is gone, forgotten, the spirit of writing it out has left me. I hate it above all. Everyone has writer’s block from time to time, but that’s only the first layer of Dante’s fearful hell. Losing the spike of inspiration is the eighth and unofficial layer as it is so horrific that no one dares to acknowledge it.

In my previous post I intended on writing so much more. My mind had drawn a beautiful story of how friendship saves life, brings back the identity, and how little is put into its true value. Everyone’s focus surrounds the idea of a perfect friendship; knowing each other so well that there only needs to be screamed “Vatican Cameos!” and the friend would understand. The desire for the endless trust is great, yet it takes more than just a couple of common interests for one to open up.
It’s the moment when you are there for someone while their heart is broken, when the tears are streaming endlessly and you can hear the sorrow in the cramped voice. The moment when you find the tissue instead of another person that can help, when you stay for however long it takes, regardless of how uncomfortable the position is. That is when your friendship begins.

Sometimes this is all I need. To ramble about my thoughts. My ideas are clustered at all times, I think too much, too little, am unfocused and wander off.  Nevertheless, my work is not finished. This is not my final thought. It’s a beginning, and a good one too.