Once I Tried To Write A Book. It Didn’t Go Well, But Here Are Some Of My Favourite Lines From The Draft.

once i tried to write a book. it didn’t go well, but here are some of my favourite lines from the draft.

Once I Tried To Write A Book. It Didn’t Go Well, But Here Are Some Of My Favourite Lines From The Draft.
Once I Tried To Write A Book. It Didn’t Go Well, But Here Are Some Of My Favourite Lines From The Draft.
Once I Tried To Write A Book. It Didn’t Go Well, But Here Are Some Of My Favourite Lines From The Draft.

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Write It Shitty, Write It Scared, Write It Without A Clue But Don't You Be So Spineless And Have An AI

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Serving Absolute Cunt

serving absolute cunt


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3 months ago

i firmly believe that the best piece of writing advice i could ever give someone is “you can’t have everything you want in your story.” if you implement ALL your ideas into one story, you risk losing good writing. because a lot of the time, the “lore” or whatever doesn’t match up with each idea, or it becomes too clustered. a good example of this is everything vivziepop writes. she tries to get all her cool ideas into one story, and so it comes off feeling like a bad fanfiction of a better story (pacing issues, continuity errors, too many characters, etc). this isn’t me hating on viv, it’s me trying to get you to learn from her mistakes. i believe her stories have genuinely decent qualities that get overshadowed by the bad stuff. 

tldr; you need to sacrifice some of your ideas in order to make a story good (but you can always reuse them in other stories!). 


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skin

“And then there were those nights, where all I could feel was skin. That heat had been unbearable, and absolutely delicious. If I could die, I would go to hell for lust just for those nights alone. I would practically become him, both up and down, through taste and flesh. The sweat would make us soft enough to slide across each other’s bodies, like raindrops off a leaf.

It was warm, so warm, and we would leave the window open so the wind would blow our hair across our faces. It was warm enough that we couldn’t even feel the cold. The wind was loud enough that nobody would hear us, praise the lord. Those nights we would dance, skin against divine skin. Pressed together, like a wax seal to a letter. A love letter, from me to him, filled with soft praises and whispers of impossible promises.

As a bee is to a rose, and as a poet is to his craft, we were inseparable until morning came.”


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Bones, a poem about dysphoria

Bones, A Poem About Dysphoria

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killianmichaelcastor - Killian "Michael" Castor
Killian "Michael" Castor

Killian or Michael|18|he/him|aspiring author/screenwriter

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