#I have an idea of the quality of their products

[nenelonomh]

working as a student

having flexible and uncommitted jobs as a student is crucial if you want to do well in your studies! so many students struggle to balance making money and studying (especially if you're in a rigorous field) - especially when you don't have the luxury of living at your parents' house or being on a finance plan.

committed jobs with strict schedules can add stress, especially during exam periods. additionally, this allows you to try a broad range of skills, which can be valuable for your future career.

here are some examples of flexible jobs/gig jobs:

✧.* babysitting/nannying/petsitting: these roles often have flexible hours,, and can be good to get you out of your comfort zone

✧.* tutoring: offering tutoring services in subjects you excel in can be done on your own schedule, either in person or online. this can also help you revise!

✧.* freelance writing/editing: although a lot of freelance responsibility has been overtaken by ai, many projects are still available to take on that allow you to work from anywhere, making it easy to balance your studies.

✧.* freelance graphic design: if you have design skills, you can take on projects as they come, working from home or school.

✧.* seasonal jobs: positions such as holiday retail work or summer camp counselling can provide you with cash (and experience), although they are not suitable to balance at the same time as your studying.

✧.* creating content online: this can be in the form of a youtube channel, instagram account, tiktok account or blog. with hard work and quality content, you can get monetized and earn money.

some more ideas include stock photography/videography, selling handmade crafts, selling digital products, voice acting, and providing transcription services.

personally, i prefer creative jobs since it is a good balance between study and work - but sometimes they are hard to earn money from. always try multiple things and test the waters before settling down.

i hope this was helpful. ❤️nene

[poorlittlegreenie13]

Another 'Rules For (fake) Dating an Italian' deleted scene that I promised to post: (the omitted shower scene from chapter nine)

this was gonna start where they were walking to the L after dinner... but the chapter was getting too long & it's kind of dumb & just wasn't feeling it lolll. But you can read it if you really want to! (& I didn't proofread it. sorry! Hopefully no egregious errors).

When she finally looks up again, she finds herself staring at the CVS across the street and stops abruptly. 

“Oh, come with me,” she says, tugging his hand to J-walk across the street. 

“Syd!” Carmy says, eyes widening, glancing at the cars approaching on either side of them. 

“Pedestrians have right of way!” Sydney says, pulling him quickly across before either of them can get flattened. 

“What do you need from CVS?” Carmy says, slightly breathless, as they walk in, dry heat hitting them both as the doors slide closed on the Chicago cold. 

“It’s not what I need, it’s what you need,” she says, pulling him toward the shampoo aisle. 

“Oh, you were serious about the shampoo,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly upset about it. 

Would she be crazy if she thought he might actually sound slightly overwhelmed by the idea? But not in a bad way. More in the way where he looks like he’s holding back his actual reaction. She wants to see it.

“I’m not letting you bald in your early thirties because you used 3-in-1 your whole life,” Sydney says, stopping in front of a shelf of shampoos and conditioners and carefully choosing a pair of bottles, which she hands to Carmy. 

“Sounds great,” he says, not even looking at them. The words have a hazy quality to them. She smiles at him, grabbing a bottle of leave-in conditioner for good measure. 

“You need anything else?” she asks him. 

He shakes his head quickly and she nods, walking toward the register, Carmy trailing behind her. 

Somehow, Sydney did not notice them walking through a section of condoms and lube on their way to the hair productions on the way in. 

She notices now though. 

There are a couple of people waiting to check out at the register, and she intended to hang back, not wanting to crowd them, but she realizes now the connotation of her pausing in this particular section of the store. 

Carmy clears his throat. She looks at him. He’s blushing. He’s so pathetic sometimes; she’s fucking crazy about him. 

“Should I…?” he says. 

On any other occasion, she might’ve teased him about trailing off instead of being able to say it out loud, but he’s already so red in the face, she decides to be merciful. 

“What, you don’t have one in your wallet?” she says. “What kind of date is this?”

“You’re so mature, Sydney,” he says, holding back a smile, shaking his head at her. “So mature.”

“You’re the one who’s blushing,” she says, and he blushes harder, grabbing a pack of condoms off the shelf and walking away from her, up to the—now available—register. 

She follows closely behind him, drunk on the ease of it all; the absurd, entrancing way they seem to be able to speak to each other. She’s never had that with anybody else before. She likes the way he smiles when she tries to make a joke. 

In his apartment—a mutually-agreed-upon destination landed on during an L-ride that consisted mostly of staring at each other—Sydney kicks her shoes off by the door and sizes him up for a second.

He fills a glass with water and sets her flowers into them. Then he empties his pockets onto the counter; keys, wallet, phone, cigarettes, then finally, he carefully sets the plastic CVS bag down next to them, looking over at Sydney with a note of uncertain expectation on his face.

“I feel like I should offer you food, but we just ate,” he says, smiling ruefully. 

Sydney stays silent for a second, wondering if she’s being like… overly horny, and weird.

But then she considers the fact that Carmy is still blushing, and decides it’s probably fine. 

“I could, uh, show you how to use that stuff,” she says, inclining her head toward the CVS bag, then, after a moment of silence, quickly adding, “I meant the hair stuff. I didn’t mean the condoms. I mean, we can… we can use the condoms. If you want. But I’m sure you’re… perfectly capable of using those yourself. No instructions necessary.” She forces an awkward little laugh. 

He smiles at her. Not patronizing, or annoyed. He smiles at her like there’s nothing more charming on this earth than her making an utter fool of herself. She watches him bite his bottom lip, trying not to laugh, and then he laughs anyway, a sweet, boyish sound. A sound that makes affection for him swell up in her chest like a helium balloon. 

She finds herself scoffing too. 

“It wasn’t that funny,” she says. 

He presses his lips together in a thin smile to stop laughing. There’s color in his cheeks; a warmth to him, underneath all the overly-formal newness of the date. 

She snatches the CVS bag off the counter, turning and walking toward the bathroom without waiting for him.

She hears him following close behind her. She kicks her shoes off, stopping outside his shower and pulling her sweater over her head (unable to stop herself from neatly folding it and setting it gently down on the closet toilet seat. Because heaven forbid it get fucked up; she loves it like an old friend). 

When she looks up, Carmy is standing in the doorway, tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, eyes fixed on her.

Jesus Christ, are they actually doing this?

Theoretically, stripping her clothes off in front of a guy she just went on a first date with isn’t really her style. 

This is different though, isn’t it? 

Honestly, she doesn’t really care. 

She’s standing in just her skirt, and the bra she picked out that morning (not a particularly nice bra, to be completely honest, she only owns four bras and they’re all the same, just in different colors).

Carmy’s eyes don’t move off her, but his fingers come to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with absurd dexterity, until he has enough room to pull it over his head, leaving him in a white wife beater, gold chain glinting. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Sydney says. 

Carmy scoffs. “Fuck me? You’re the one who looks like that.”

“Like what?” Sydney demands indignantly. 

“Like a fucking angel,” Carmy says, a disbeliving laugh breaking through his words halfway through the sentence. 

“You look like Marlon fucking Brando,” she says. 

“You look cold,” Carmy says, smile softening. “Wanna turn that water on?”

Simple command, but it still makes her smile fade, and her cheeks heat. She nods, turning and reaching into his shower to turn the hot water on, standing on the bathmat where it can’t reach her. 

With her back still turned to him, she reaches to undo the clasp of her bra, sliding it off and letting it fall to the tile floor of his bathroom. 

She hears him inhale. 

Hears a faint rustle of fabric. 

She brings her fingers to the zipper of her skirt and pauses, looking over her shoulder at him. 

He’s taken his undershirt off. 

She stands unmoving for a long moment, stuck in the feeling of him staring at her like a fly stuck in honey. 

“Syd,” he says gently, after a moment. “You sure you wanna do this?”

“Do you want to do this?” she asks. 

He exhales a soft laugh. 

“Yes,” he says simply. 

“Well, so do I,” she says, turning back to look at the shower water, unzipping the side of her skirt. “Get over here,” she says, one hand still holding her skirt up. 

Carmy crosses quickly to her; shirtless, impossible. His eyes flick down to her chest, but quickly come back up to her face, like he thinks she might not notice. 

She did notice. She didn’t mind. 

“You first,” she says, nodding toward his pants, still buttoned. 

He scoffs, and a blush creeps up his exposed chest, but he unbuttons them anyway, pushing them down his hips and stepping out of them, left in boxers and socks. 

She lets her skirt drop, kicking it over the same way as Carmy’s pants, and without letting herself hesitate, slides her panties down her hips too and steps under the water, inhaling sharply as it hits her head, instantly banishing any hints of the cold from her body. 

She hears the curtain slide shut, and when she opens her eyes, Carmy is standing across from her, his back pressed to the cold tiles behind the showerhead, totally dry. 

She steps back so he can stand under the water too, but he makes no motion to move until she reaches out and takes one of his wrists in her hand, pulling him under the water. 

He tilts his head back, water running over his face, curls straightening out beneath it. She finds her eyes catching on stray drops of water as they trail down his chest. 

But no. She’s getting distracted. 

“Carm,” she says. “Hair.”

“Really?” he says, with a faint note of exasperation, opening his eyes and looking at her. 

“What, did you think this was just an excuse to get you in the shower?” she says, reaching out to get the shampoo and conditioner and setting them on the shelf. “I don’t joke about curl patterns, Carmen.”

“Right,” Carmy says, shaking his head slowly. “I should’ve known.”

She smiles at him ruefully.

“I still don’t know what was so bad about my 3-in-1,” he says. 

Sydney rolls her eyes. 

“God, you’re hopeless,” she says, “here, just turn around.”

She puts her hands on his shoulders, spinning him to face the opposite shower wall. 

The water hits his face and he tilts his head back to avoid it. 

For a moment, she lets her eyes wander over his back; littered with tattoos, dripping with water. 

She wants to press a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, but she settles instead for dragging her fingers over the slopes of his shoulders, down his biceps, lingering on his skin until she pulls her hands away to reach for the shampoo. She sees him shiver. 

“I never take warm showers,” he murmurs. Maybe to break the silence. Maybe just to talk. 

“Why not?” she asks, pouring some shampoo into one hand and replacing the bottle on the shelf in the corner of his shower. 

“I— oh,” he breaks off as she brings her hand to the back of his hair, beginning to massage the shampoo into his damp curls. “I, uh, I don’t know, just never… had the time for the water to warm up, I guess,” he says, quieter. 

She drags her fingers through his hair, bringing her left hand up to join her right, working across his scalp. 

“God, that’s— that’s good, Syd,” he says, words soft.

He steps back, maybe subconsciously, leaning into her touch. His back grazes her chest and she hears his breath catch. 

“Sorry,” he breathes, freezing in place.  

“Don’t be,” she says. “Step under the water for me though, we need to wash this out.”

“Mmhm,” he says, leaning his head forward to catch under the water. The bubbles of the shampoo run down his back, following the path of his spine.  

When the water runs clear, no more shampoo running down the drain, he turns around to look at her. His eyelashes have droplets of water stuck in them. His hair is plastered to his forehead. 

“Done?” he asks. 

“No,” she says, smiling at how disheveled he looks.  “Conditioner now.”

“Oh,” he says, exhaling. 

“It’s good to leave the conditioner in for a few minutes sometimes,” she says, swallowing hard, reaching blindly behind her for the bottle, uncapping it and squeezing some into her palm. He watches her do it. “Makes your hair softer, you know?”

“Whatever you say,” he says, though he doesn’t seem particularly invested in her haircare instructions. 

She doesn’t make him turn around this time, just smooths his hair back with one hair and combs the conditioner through with the other, enjoying the way his eyes flutter shut as she drags her fingernails lightly over his scalp. 

When she’s done, he doesn’t open his eyes. 

She studies his face for a second; greedy and unhurried. 

He’s so fucking beautiful. 

“Carm,” she says. 

“Mm?” he says, eyes opening. 

She smiles softly at the dazed expression on his face, and drops her eyes to his lips. As she leans into him, she sees the tiniest flicker of surprise, and then he’s leaning back to meet her, that hungry kind of kissing that unfailingly disarms her. 

Her chest presses against his, their wet skin sliding easily together, making her body hum to life. 

She isn’t sure if she steps forward, or he steps back, but as they move together, the shower water begins raining down over both their heads. Sydney tastes flat water catching between their lips; the shock of the heat of it makes her gasp, and when she pulls back from Carmy, he’s red and breathless.

“I… think it, uh, washed itself out,” she says, glancing at his hair. 

“Yeah?”

She nods slowly.

“Smells good,” he says, running his fingers through his own damp hair. 

She smiles at him. “It’ll be soft when it dries.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” she says, nodding, becoming less capable of words as he stares at her more intensely. 

“You wanna… dry off?” he asks. “Then we can… you know. Whatever you want.”

“Yeah,” she says. 

He reaches behind him, turning the water off. 

There are towels under his sink and he tosses her one. 

“Don’t you dare towel dry your hair,” she says. 

He blinks at her. 

“Wha—how am—what am I supposed to do if I don’t towel dry it?”

“You need to scrunch it up and let it dry naturally.”

“Uh-huh,” he says. “Maybe show me that next time.”

She rolls her eyes as he towels his hair off in a way that is absolutely going to undo any progress she made. But she doesn’t really care. 

“Bedroom?” she asks, wrapping the towel he gave her around herself. 

“Yes,” he says, 

[rice-x2]

i miss trigun guys (<- literally hasnt even finished trimax yet)

[mylastmoleculeofserotonin]

I think I’ve finally put my finger on the reason why I (and people in general) love to watch “kids’ shows” when they are older teens and adults: because empathy and love, especially platonic love, are arguably humans’ most valuable trait and yet, in our society and in “realistic” media is treated as a weakness or at least at odds with being successful. Like, empathy isn’t even unique to humans, it’s found in and is integral to so many species of animals (and maybe even plants too!!), especially what we consider to be some of the most fearsome predators like lions and wolves. But humans have have “gone all in on” empathy and the capacity to form bonds with other humans, even outside familial circles, which is the reason we outlived the homo erectus which lived at the same time as humans since we were able to form larger communities. And all that’s to say that seeing shows where moral goodness is synonymous with empathy and friendship and wins the day is probably very satisfying for our brains since we don’t often see empathy treated as the essential part of us that it is.

That’s why shows like Hilda or Kipo and the Age of the Wonderbeasts are my personal favorites because the main characters’ defining trait is being empathetic and is, at least in the beginning, their only way of avoiding trouble. And these shows in particular feature the main characters advancing the plot and achieving heroic feats through simply talking it out and generally being a kind and helpful person. When I first watched these shows I, admittedly, saw such events as cheesy, but when I took time to think about it, it not only makes sense why it worked, but was quite literally the best possible way to fix the problem at hand because empathy is a very natural thing for humans and is literally how we have become the apex species so of course it can work when someone gives it a chance.

It’s human nature to be kind and empathetic and is why it’s so satisfying to see it spotlit in kids shows.

[citrlet]

very sad this morning seeing Ryan and Shane leaving youtube to start yet another exclusive subscription service :/

[chromaji]

i would like to award RPGMaker with the highest honor i can bestow it during my time off gamedevving:

helping me make future EO Stream Cutscenes

[inkstainedkateyyy-14]

........... so.

[natjennie]

watcher announcement is insane. I don't have anything insightful or important to say but like. whoaoahh that's crazy.

[somer-writes]

Who of the chain has a “would make a good radio/podcaster voice”?

depends on the podcast methinks

time has like an npr voice. i think he does serious interviews well and reports current events

warriors has a talkshow voice. celebrity reactions and interviews

twi probably a hosts some kind of educational podcast but like animal education. he plays up his accent for the show

sky has an advice show like therapy gecko maybe. very gentle and smiley

wild does an "i try so you dont have to" show but he captures the audio live so its always like garbled with weather or screaming

legend hosts a history education show but obscure history. he has a Podcast Voice that sounds nothing like how he usually talks

hyrule has a travel show but he doesnt interview locals. he mostly rambles while he rambles. he and wild collab

four has a book club podcast. sometimes with himself, sometimes with legend and twi. arguments abound

winds podcast is about community projects and feel good stories. he and warriors collab. theres a blog attached to the podcast

[hobgoblinns]

is it just me or has tv (writing) gotten worse lately

[theflyingfeeling]

y'all complaining about the prices of the BC merch like...some of you have never seen the prices of Moomin merch and it shows

[mejomonster]

i nice thing about liking ryu ga gotoku studios games, that was not a benefit of final fantasy/square enix (their ones, not the ones just published by them like Nier Automata), is wow the gift of knowing there’s actually a game coming out every 2 years. when rgg say they’re making a game, they mean it, and they mean it reasonably soon with pretty good certainty. after square enix’s habit of saying a games being made for 5-10 years this is just refreshing

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads // twitter thread  

The World We Make

Conclusion to the Great Cities duology

the avatars of the boroughs of New York have to stop the cosmic reality-bending entity from destroying their city & possibly the universe once and for all

while a new far right candidate for mayor is fueling its power

amazing audiobook production i love this duology a lot

queer as hell

[beloveliness]

can she rework her whole writing process or

[nomaishuttle]

cannot stress enough how sick i an of every single response to a post abt fast fashion being bad is UMMM HAVE YOU CONSIDERED POOR PEOPLE?

[bookishdiplodocus]

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

(Even when life beats you down)

Look, I’m a mom, I have ADHD, I’m a spoonie. To say that I don’t have heaps of energy to spare and I struggle with consistency is an understatement. For years, I tried to write consistently, but I couldn’t manage to keep up with habits I built and deadlines I set.

So fuck neurodivergent guides on building habits, fuck “eat the frog first”, fuck “it’s all in the grind”, and fuck “you just need time management”—here is how I manage to write often and a lot.

Focus on having fun, not on the outcome

This was the groundwork I had to lay before I could even start my streak. At an online writing conference, someone said: “If you push yourself and meet your goals, and you publish your book, but you haven’t enjoyed the process… What’s the point?” and hoo boy, that question hit me like a truck.

I was so caught up in the narrative of “You’ve got to show up for what’s important” and “Push through if you really want to get it done”. For a few years, I used to read all these productivity books about grinding your way to success, and along the way I started using the same language as they did. And I notice a lot of you do so, too.

But your brain doesn’t like to grind. No-one’s brain does, and especially no neurodivergent brain. If having to write gives you stress or if you put pressure on yourself for not writing (enough), your brain’s going to say: “Huh. Writing gives us stress, we’re going to try to avoid it in the future.”

So before I could even try to write regularly, I needed to teach my brain once again that writing is fun. I switched from countable goals like words or time to non-countable goals like “fun” and “flow”.

Rewire my brain: writing is fun and I’m good at it

I used everything I knew about neuroscience, psychology, and social sciences. These are some of the things I did before and during a writing session. Usually not all at once, and after a while I didn’t need these strategies anymore, although I sometimes go back to them when necessary.

I journalled all the negative thoughts I had around writing and try to reason them away, using arguments I knew in my heart were true. (The last part is the crux.) Imagine being supportive to a writer friend with crippling insecurities, only the friend is you.

Not setting any goals didn’t work for me—I still nurtured unwanted expectations. So I did set goals, but made them non-countable, like “have fun”, “get in the flow”, or “write”. Did I write? Yes. Success! Your brain doesn’t actually care about how high the goal is, it cares about meeting whatever goal you set.

I didn’t even track how many words I wrote. Not relevant.

I set an alarm for a short time (like 10 minutes) and forbade myself to exceed that time. The idea was that if I write until I run out of mojo, my brain learns that writing drains the mojo. If I write for 10 minutes and have fun, my brain learns that writing is fun and wants to do it again.

Reinforce the fact that writing makes you happy by rewarding your brain immediately afterwards. You know what works best for you: a walk, a golden sticker, chocolate, cuddle your dog, whatever makes you happy.

I conditioned myself to associate writing with specific stimuli: that album, that smell, that tea, that place. Any stimulus can work, so pick one you like. I consciously chose several stimuli so I could switch them up, and the conditioning stays active as long as I don’t muddle it with other associations.

Use a ritual to signal to your brain that Writing Time is about to begin to get into the zone easier and faster. I guess this is a kind of conditioning as well? Meditation, music, lighting a candle… Pick your stimulus and stick with it.

Specifically for rewiring my brain, I started a new WIP that had no emotional connotations attached to it, nor any pressure to get finished or, heaven forbid, meet quality norms. I don’t think these techniques above would have worked as well if I had applied them on writing my novel.

It wasn’t until I could confidently say I enjoyed writing again, that I could start building up a consistent habit. No more pushing myself.

I lowered my definition for success

When I say that nowadays I write every day, that’s literally it. I don’t set out to write 1,000 or 500 or 10 words every day (tried it, failed to keep up with it every time)—the only marker for success when it comes to my streak is to write at least one word, even on the days when my brain goes “naaahhh”. On those days, it suffices to send myself a text with a few keywords or a snippet. It’s not “success on a technicality (derogatory)”, because most of those snippets and ideas get used in actual stories later. And if they don’t, they don’t. It’s still writing. No writing is ever wasted.

A side note on high expectations, imposter syndrome, and perfectionism

Obviously, “Setting a ridiculously low goal” isn’t something I invented. I actually got it from those productivity books, only I never got it to work. I used to tell myself: “It’s okay if I don’t write for an hour, because my goal is to write for 20 minutes and if I happen to keep going for, say, an hour, that’s a bonus.” Right? So I set the goal for 20 minutes, wrote for 35 minutes, and instead of feeling like I exceeded my goal, I felt disappointed because apparently I was still hoping for the bonus scenario to happen. I didn’t know how to set a goal so low and believe it.

I think the trick to making it work this time lies more in the groundwork of training my brain to enjoy writing again than in the fact that my daily goal is ridiculously low. I believe I’m a writer, because I prove it to myself every day. Every success I hit reinforces the idea that I’m a writer. It’s an extra ward against imposter syndrome.

Knowing that I can still come up with a few lines of dialogue on the Really Bad Days—days when I struggle to brush my teeth, the day when I had a panic attack in the supermarket, or the day my kid got hit by a car—teaches me that I can write on the mere Bad-ish Days.

The more I do it, the more I do it

The irony is that setting a ridiculously low goal almost immediately led to writing more and more often. The most difficult step is to start a new habit. After just a few weeks, I noticed that I needed less time and energy to get into the zone. I no longer needed all the strategies I listed above.

Another perk I noticed, was an increased writing speed. After just a few months of writing every day, my average speed went from 600 words per hour to 1,500 wph, regularly exceeding 2,000 wph without any loss of quality.

Talking about quality: I could see myself becoming a better writer with every passing month. Writing better dialogue, interiority, chemistry, humour, descriptions, whatever: they all improved noticeably, and I wasn’t a bad writer to begin with.

The increased speed means I get more done with the same amount of energy spent. I used to write around 2,000-5,000 words per month, some months none at all. Nowadays I effortlessly write 30,000 words per month. I didn’t set out to write more, it’s just a nice perk.

Look, I’m not saying you should write every day if it doesn’t work for you. My point is: the more often you write, the easier it will be.

No pressure

Yes, I’m still working on my novel, but I’m not racing through it. I produce two or three chapters per month, and the rest of my time goes to short stories my brain keeps projecting on the inside of my eyelids when I’m trying to sleep. I might as well write them down, right?

These short stories started out as self-indulgence, and even now that I take them more seriously, they are still just for me. I don’t intend to ever publish them, no-one will ever read them, they can suck if they suck. The unintended consequence was that my short stories are some of my best writing, because there’s no pressure, it’s pure fun.

Does it make sense to spend, say, 90% of my output on stories no-one else will ever read? Wouldn’t it be better to spend all that creative energy and time on my novel? Well, yes. If you find the magic trick, let me know, because I haven’t found it yet. The short stories don’t cannibalize on the novel, because they require different mindsets. If I stopped writing the short stories, I wouldn’t produce more chapters. (I tried. Maybe in the future? Fingers crossed.)

Don’t wait for inspiration to hit

There’s a quote by Picasso: “Inspiration hits, but it has to find you working.” I strongly agree. Writing is not some mystical, muse-y gift, it’s a skill and inspiration does exist, but usually it’s brought on by doing the work. So just get started and inspiration will come to you.

Accountability and community

Having social factors in your toolbox is invaluable. I have an offline writing friend I take long walks with, I host a monthly writing club on Discord, and I have another group on Discord that holds me accountable every day. They all motivate me in different ways and it’s such a nice thing to share my successes with people who truly understand how hard it can be.

The productivity books taught me that if you want to make a big change in your life or attitude, surrounding yourself with people who already embody your ideal or your goal huuuugely helps. The fact that I have these productive people around me who also prioritize writing, makes it easier for me to stick to my own priorities.

Your toolbox

The idea is to have several techniques at your disposal to help you stay consistent. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket by focussing on just one technique. Keep all of them close, and if one stops working or doesn’t inspire you today, pivot and pick another one.

After a while, most “tools” run in the background once they are established. Things like surrounding myself with my writing friends, keeping up with my daily streak, and listening to the album I conditioned myself with don’t require any energy, and they still remain hugely beneficial.

Do you have any other techniques? I’d love to hear about them!

I hope this was useful. Happy writing!