#okay sure i’ll publish some of the deeply personal drafts too why not!!

[annarubys]

the kinsey scale is like a brother to me because we are allllll over the place like i’m bi but the single shred of evidence is a crush i had in MIDDLE SCHOOL and who knows if that’s even reliable because it was a decade ago. but also i don’t think it was comphet because i was obsessed with this kid to an embarrassing degree. but you would think there would have been maybe one other person post puberty. so then i was like okay i can be a lesbian i guess since at 13 i probably wasn’t a reliable narrator but then the boys aired and. well. there were five minutes where i did think jackles was maybe hot (an experience which i hated). anyway i am thinking about all of this because i am watching something with sebastian stan who i did routinely used to say was hot but he is really giving me nothing right now so maybe i was being a liar. the thing is i can’t remember

[oigimi]

. moonlight .

. arthur x reader . 1.4k words . hurt/comfort, slight angst .

You paced around the library, trying to fight the growing pit in your stomach. Your body was getting weak and tired, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sit down, out of fear you’d stew too much on your own thoughts. Being alone was scary. Having no one to talk to in a situation of anxiety does nothing but feed a person’s demons, and that was exactly what you were going through. Arthur had been out for a while, having a grand time at the pub. You were happy for your boyfriend; He’d just sent in a draft of his latest story to be published. A long, celebratory night was obviously in order… except for the fact that this was his fifth celebratory night in a row. And you hadn’t been invited to any of them.

After everything you and Arthur had been through, between your initial meeting, to your many adventures in town, to the climactic confrontation at the theatre, it was difficult not to trust him. He was the one person you could rely on to always be there for you, to make you forget all your worries in exchange for smiles and laughter. Arthur brought out the best in you, and you brought out the best in him, so why was he spending so much at the pub away from you and refusing to give an explanation? You wholeheartedly trusted him, but still your stomach churned and your heart ached at the thought of him having some sort of ulterior motives.

The library seemed to close in on you the longer you stayed, so you took a deep breath and forced your shaking legs to take you somewhere else. The mansion was massive and you were positive there was at least one room you could relax in. But which one? You couldn’t bring yourself to sleep just yet, you had taken a bath, and if you fixed a meal in the kitchen, it would likely wake up Sebastian. You looked at the clock. Thirty past midnight. Great.

A steady silver light, you noticed, made its way through the window and onto the floor. Something about its desaturated glow eased you for a moment, almost as if it could feel the sense of loneliness and fear that dwelled inside of you. Oh, how the moon was always there for humanity in times of trouble. When there was nothing to turn to for relief, there was the moon. You made your way out into the garden in hopes of absorbing some of that relief. What else were you supposed to do? Maybe you would fall asleep outside, it’d feel the same as sleeping without Arthur in a bed anyway.

Just as the thought of your lost boyfriend crossed your mind, a carriage pulled up to the mansion’s gates to dispense him. Arthur thanked the driver and opened the gates, jumping back when he saw you sitting alone on the fountain.

“Good evening, sweetheart! What are you out here for? Isn’t it a little late for little birds to be flying around?”

“Maybe,” you answered, forcing yourself to smile. “Ever hear of night owls?”

“You’ve caught me there.” Arthur offered his hand to you, and you gladly took it, eager to feel his touch again. But as he escorted you back inside, you couldn’t help but return to the thoughts that clouded your mind. Relationships were built on trust and communication, and you prided yourself on how stable your relationship with Arthur was, so why was it so difficult to even think about voicing your worries to him?

You sat down on the corner of his bed and watched him undress. Your hands couldn’t help but fidget, just another way your subconscious communicated your fears. Your fidgeting hands, your bouncing leg, and your dry throat all pushed the narrative that you didn’t want Arthur to know was true: You were worried about him.

When Arthur was finished changing, he sat beside you and pulled you into a tight, yet gentle embrace. “It’s okay, love,” he murmured, beginning to rock you. He rested his head on yours and rubbed your arm. “I would never do anything to hurt you, and I’m deeply sorry that I made you feel this way.”

Your eyes widened, and your heart dropped. How did he do that? How did he always manage to sport these things? It was unfair. It was shocking. “Stop doing that,” you whispered, trying to blink away the tears stinging your eyes. You couldn’t help but melt into Arthur’s arms, returning his hug with one of less strength, but equal passion. “I hate that you always know everything that’s going on with me without even trying, but here I am completely clueless to anything you’re thinking! I- I don’t even know where you’ve been going these past few days but if I were the one sneaking out you would probably be able to tell where I was within moments! I feel so in the dark, Arthur! And I hate it when you leave!”

You wept a bit more, burying your face into your boyfriend’s chest. Arthur said nothing for a moment and let you cry. He’d decided that allowing you to express everything within you would do much more for you, and that he would always listen. He nodded, kissing the top of your head and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry… does it hurt that much when I’m gone?” “Yes! I got so used to feeling your warmth at night and resting my head on your shoulder, and I’m just afraid I won’t be able to do that anymore. There’s so many gorgeous people out there in the world, and I still just can’t believe that you chose me, so my mind just… it wanders.”

Arthur felt his heart get heavier, and his embrace weakened. He eventually pulled away from you and shook his head. “I picked you over everybody in the world because there’s nobody else like you. There’s nobody that can make me laugh like you do. Nobody that could ever truly love and accept me, nobody that can make me feel happy to be alive the same way that you can. I’ve felt that way from the very beginning, my sweet little dove. And nothing has ever changed. Except, perhaps, the fact that I love you more and more every single day we’re together.”

You stared up at his sapphire-blue eyes, your own puffy and pink from the crying you’d just finished doing. Sighing, you shifted your gaze down to your lap. “I love you too,” you murmured. Perhaps you were simply being irrational. Worried for no reason. You always knew Arthur loved you. You’d known the whole time that he just didn’t have it in him to betray your trust, so why were you worried in the first place? You scolded yourself for allowing yourself to have these thoughts, and took a deep sigh to lighten your chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let myself think that way.”

“Don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong, sweet love of mine.” Arthur pulled you into his lap and chuckled a bit. “It is quite endearing that you were so worried about me! I think I would have felt the same way. Being without you is truly a curse.”

“So where did you go?” you asked, finally calming yourself down. “And why couldn’t I come?”

Arthur stroked your hair, running his fingers through it. “Well you couldn’t come because you’re going to find out what it is when it’s all finished. And I’ve been all over town, love! What I have planned is going to be fantastic. I hope you love it.”

You cupped Arthur’s face, and pressed your foreheads together. “Hmm… Alright, I believe you! You’re a brilliant man, Arthur. Whatever it is you have planned for me, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

“I hope so!” Arthur laughed, pulling you with him as he lied down on the bed. You giggled and held him tightly.

“Arthur! Gah!”

The two of you held each other in bed, rubbing noses and exchanging sweet kisses. As you relished in the euphoric feeling in your chest, you glanced over at the window. There it was again: The shining, silver moon. The light it cast didn’t seem as gloomy and anxious as before, rather it felt like a spotlight. A spotlight that illuminated the love you and Arthur shared together. And for that, you felt grateful.

When Arthur turned off the lights, and gave you one last goodnight kiss, you remained awake for just a few moments longer, thanking the moon for always being there.

[pufflyhallows]

Picks & Pens (I)

Hi! This is a brand new series for our boy Sirius Black. It’s a rockstar!au in modern days. I really hope you like it, I had the idea over a year ago and had a little something in my drafts but only now got to write it the way it deserves. Enjoy!

Chapter One: Press

Warnings: language

Word count: 1,7k

a/n: I know nothing about press or the music industry, so forgive me for any mistakes lol

Sirius Black. What a perfect name for the typical arrogant and condescending rockstar who had just been declared artist of the decade by the magazine you worked for. Unfortunately for you, he also happened to be your ex-boyfriend.

You two had met in high school, way before he got famous. He already wrote music back then, you being one of the very first people to ever listen to it. Some of those songs were quite big hits today and you genuinely liked them, but that didn’t mean you liked him. At least, not anymore. Your relationship had ceased to exist seven years ago. What is it that people say about fame? Oh yes, it changes you.

As you walked past the countless desks in that white-walled office with tall windows, the latest edition of the magazine in hands, you thought about your boss’ proposition. She wanted you to interview the “artist of the decade” for the February issue – it was coming out on Valentine’s Day and she wanted an article about Sirius Black’s muse and writing process. According to her, it was impossible that there wasn’t a girl behind the lyrics of his songs, even though the man had been single for years now. You had told her you’d think about it and answer the next day. Well, today was the next day.

Brenda, your boss’ assistant, was on the phone when you approached her desk. She raised a finger at you as if to say “hold on” and kept talking to the person at the other end of that call. You knew better than to interrupt her, so you patiently waited.

“No freaking way, Rebecca! I told you he was going to the party regardless of what Charlie said! Now, don’t get me wrong, I think you’re much smarter than Mackenzie, but she’s got a point.”

You inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Was it naive of you to assume that people only took business calls during business hours?

“I’m wheezing! Literally dying! Oh God...” Brenda giggled. “Well, I gotta go. I’m at work. What? Bitch, you called.”

You watched as she hung up the phone and gathered some loose sheets of paper from her desk, organizing them in a pile.

“Brenda?” you said, catching her attention. “I’m here to see Mrs. Lennox. Could you announce me?”

“She’s busy.”

“Uhh… She asked me to come by her office at ten and it’s… ten.”

Brenda sighed and picked up the phone again, pressing the interphone button. “Mrs. Lennox? Sorry to bother, but Y/N says she’s here to see you. Yes. Not a problem. Okay.”

She hung up and went back to putting her sheets into piles. You raised an eyebrow at her before she finally looked at you and spoke as if it was obvious. “Go in!”

Was it unprofessional to flip off a coworker?

You opened the door slowly and found Mrs. Lennox sitting by her desk with her eyes focused on her computer screen. She looked at you and smiled, gesturing for you to come see what she was working on.

“These photos just came in. Look at him! Isn’t he just so handsome?!”

And there he was. His signature guitar lazily laying between his legs as he had one hand resting on it and the other supporting his weight. He was sitting on a white… box-shaped stool? The background was also white, contrasting to his all-black outfit.

“I think I want these in black and white, what do you think?”

“There isn’t much color in them anyways,” you though out loud.

“Oh…” Mrs. Lennox eyed the entire picture. “You’re right. Black and white it is,” she wrote it down on her notepad.

You kept looking at the photo displayed across the large computer screen. The little shit was handsome, there was no denying that. The problem was what was behind that smirk – arrogance, selfishness and a big big sense of self-importance.

“So?!” your boss’ voice snapped you out of your memories. “Have you thought about our conversation yesterday?”

“I have,” you walked around the desk and sat in front of the older woman as she took off her red cat-eye glasses. “But I need to ask you something first.”

“Go ahead.”

“Will it bring attention to the fact that I am his ex-girlfriend?”

“What do you mean, sweetie? Everyone already knows.”

“I know, but… will it be focused on that? Yesterday you mentioned that it’d be great to have some sort of reunion and that the public would love it. Your idea is an intimate interview, just the two of us in the room and all.”

“Yes...”

“I understand it. I agree that the conversation flows better that way, because the interviewees usually feel more comfortable with less people around and no cameras. However, this is my job. Just my job. I don’t want it to be publicized as a reunion with my ex-boyfriend. This is me, a journalist, interviewing him, a musician.”

Mrs. Lennox looked at you for a while, as if she was trying to read your thoughts. She placed her hands together on the desk and took a deep breath.

“Listen, Y/N. I’ve got to be honest with you. The subject that will be discussed in this interview is interesting, yes. A lot of people are curious about his lyrics. Myself included. But frankly? Anyone can ask him questions about that and put it on a website or a magazine. Anyone. Would it sell? Of course! He’s the artist of the decade, everyone adores him. Now, imagine if the person interviewing him is actually a former girlfriend. And not any girlfriend, but his high school sweetheart. The girlfriend from the very beginning of his career. The person who was there when some of the biggest songs of this entire decade were being written. It will sell like water in the desert, Y/N! This is really good for press.”

“So this is why you picked me, of all people. Press,” you looked down and bit your inner cheek. “I’m a journalist, Mrs. Lennox.” You looked back at her, “I am part of the press. And I know how they will eat me alive after this interview. They will chase me around, paps will hunt me everywhere. The whole nightmare will start all over again. Even after seven years, I still get the occasional question about him. After this interview, though? There will be no peace. And, as a matter of fact, I’m not quite sure if I like the idea of having my personal life used as marketing. God, I’m not even sure if I do want to ‘reunite’ with him.”

“I see,” Mrs. Lennox leaned back on her chair. “What is your answer, then?”

You looked in her eyes, thinking about the last three years you worked for her magazine. She was by far the best boss you’ve ever had. She took you under her wing and gave you enough space to explore your full potential and truly shine. She bent backwards for you several times in the past, helping you build your name in journalism. There was nothing in this world that she could ask that would make you think twice before attending. Nothing, except this.

However, there was a side of you that wanted to see him again. To speak to him again. Hear him talk again. A very curious side of you, that needed to see how he would act around you after so many years of no contact. Would he treat you like every other interviewer? Would he be as self-absorbed and pompous? Would he answer to your questions truthfully? That side of you would die to find out.

And that side won. Along with all the respect you had for your boss and the extra payment she offered the day before, of course.

“My answer is yes. I will interview him.”

Mrs. Lennox smiled widely, but before she could say anything, you added. “Under one condition.”

“Oh, Y/N. What is it?”

“It won’t get publicized as a reunion. Please, Mrs. Lennox, don’t publish it with something like ‘Sirius Black interviewed by former girlfriend’. Just put my name in there and let the press do their thing around it. That’s all I ask. Please.”

Mrs. Lennox eyed you for a while, just like before. She always seemed to crave the power to read minds, maybe even control them. She bit her lower lip and adjusted her wedding ring, looking down at her notepad now.

“Well, it does look good to treat it like it’s so casual. Like you’re still friends and it’s no big deal. You did end things amicably, after all.”

Right…

“Okay, Y/N,” she nodded. “It will be just your name, no mentions of the relationship.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lennox.”

“Right. Look, Y/N, this interview is very important for us. Please, keep that in mind. I expect a really good show of professionalism on your part. The subject might be delicate to deal with, given your past, but I trust that you won’t leave out any details pertinent to the writing of this article.”

“You have nothing to worry about. The subject won’t be delicate at all.”

You hoped you didn’t sound insulted, because you did feel your ears burn slightly with the insinuation that you might care if he wrote songs about some other girl. You absolutely did not. It’s been seven fucking years.

“Great. That settles it, then. I will look into scheduling this interview now,” she clicked on her mouse and put her red cat-eye glasses back on. “I am predicting it will take place within two weeks from now, so no trips out of town during this time!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You can go back to work now, sweetie. If anything comes up, I’ll e-mail you.”

“Okay,” you stood up and grabbed your latest edition of the magazine, remembering why you had brought it in the first place. “Oh! By the way, there’s a typo on page forty-five of the January issue. Printing started this morning, so I think there’s still time to fix it before we lose too much material.”

“Y/N! What would I do without you?! Page forty-five, you say?” she immediately wrote it down on her notepad. “I knew I couldn’t trust Henry on this.”

“He’s a good kid,” you shrugged. “He’ll get the hang of it.”

“Right, right… Ask Brenda to call him on your way out, will you?”

“Of course,” you nodded, already feeling bad for Henry’s ears.

The next couple of weeks were going to be interesting, though.

********

[kjmsupremacist]

26 and 27!

26. What is the worst writing advice in your opinion?

anything regarding grammar and following the rules to the letter! grammar is there primarily to help give order, and make your work readable. trying to memorize all the rules just gets confusing.

It’s okay if you tack a couple of sentence fragments together and call it a day! it’s okay to start a sentence with whatever word you think you need! it’s okay if your style is uncouth! you can even forgo an oxford comma, and I’ll forgive you. the only thing you need to ask yourself is if your work reads easily, in a way that makes your meaning clear. For me, this means that the writing flows, so be sure you’re integrating punctuation where it’s necessary--not where the old white dudes who made up the rules of language say they should go. 

the main thing i look for in any fic is whether there’s enough commas and periods that it gives me room to breathe, and whether punctuation surrounding dialogue is correct, because to me, that’s what makes something readable.

27. What is the best writing advice?

practice! write anything. write it even if it’s bad. write it even if you don’t want anybody to see it. write what you want to read, even if it’s just the same tropes over and over and over. if you want more of it, then chances are other people do too. use different styles! put yourself through exercises! 

to that last point, I know when we think of writing we usually first think of prose. poetry is so polarizing; like usually either you love it or you hate it. I love it, and here’s why: it’s a playground for you to try things out. prose has a specific form; poetry, you can do anything (just ask gertrude stein, for example lol). most of my best prose usually stems from bad, ugly, nonsensical poems I barfed out weeks earlier when some weird little feelings were doing laps in my head. it’s a great place to feel things out and try new things. though I am (unsubtle flex) a published poet, the poetry i have out there has rough drafts and aborted siblings that will never see the light of day.

get other eyes on your work, even if it’s just a friend or a teacher! getting criticism is embarrassing, especially for an art form that is so deeply personal. it is so very difficult to write without simultaneously entering a confessional, so displaying that to another person, asking for advice, can be daunting! but it’s very important to have an outsider’s view, so you know if what you’re writing makes sense. if you don’t have anyone you want to share your work with, then at the very least do dramatic readings of your work for your trusty team of stuffed animals and edit as you go ^^ it helps!

lastly, read!! a writer is someone who loves language and loves stories. I devoured books a series at a time when I was young. it’s part of how you learn. it’s not that you steal ideas when you do it, it’s just that reading can open your eyes to things you like, things you want to try, different ways to build a world or show a character’s personality. 

wip ask game!

[writingformadderton]

Your Song💜

Ship: Madderton

Word Count: 2134

Summary: Taron and Richard attend the Rocketman premiere. Richard often feels uncomfortable during premieres and fights with panic attacks, just like this time. Taron does his best to support him and helps him through the evening.

Additional tags: panic, comfort, soft, fluff, singing

A/N: We already posted it once on my blog (nati) but we decided to publish the fics in order of the soundtrack so you´ll find it here again. 

“You almost ready, Rich?” Taron knocked eagerly against the bathroom door of his co-stars' apartment. He straightened his velvet deep grey suit and looked at his watch. 15 minutes, and they would be on their way. 

Richard opened the door, eyebrow raised and slight irritation in his features. “Calm down, we have enough time.” he spoke, his thick accent always made Taron weak at the knees.

Taron scanned over his co-star carefully, admiring him. He wore a crisp white suit that made his ocean blue eyes stand out amazingly. He was closing the buttons on his jacket and looking in the mirror. He looked like a dream. Though in his eyes, Richard was not convinced. “You look great!” he spoke immediately, seeing the doubt on his face, and stepped closer. Replacing Rich’s hands, he closed the last buttons on his jacket.

“I wish I would feel like it.” Richard said with a heavy breath. They shared a look between each other. T’s eyes softened and he closed the last button. Richard knew Taron understood what was going on. He always did. 

“I won’t leave your side.” he affirmed the Scottish man as he pat him on the shoulder and walked into the living room. Taron knew he had to give his boyfriend some space. Richard struggles with some personal insecurities. Sometimes, he has panic attacks when there are too many people around him or when he’s really nervous before a premiere. T always tried to give him the space he needed.

He made himself comfortable on the sofa and looked out of the window. The sun was shining brightly in Cannes today and it will be a beautiful scenery for the premiere of Rocketman. He looked forward to seeing how the movie turns out and if the audience would like it. Taron rested his head against the sofa and closed his eyes. They all worked so hard to make the movie look good. He longed for the moment the press marathon would be over and he could lie in Richard’s arms again, not thinking of what he had to do the next day.

A few minutes later, Taron began to worry. Richard still wasn’t ready yet and they only had 10 minutes left before they had to be on their way. “Babe?” He called out.

“Hmm?” Taron rose from the sofa and made his way to the bathroom. Richard was standing there bracing himself at the sink. His eyes were closed and he gave out slow, shaky breaths.

“Rich, are you alright?” T asked gently and Rich stood up straight, but looked at the floor. T stood in the doorway and watched him carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was stress him out or send him into a panic.

Richard nodded and took a deep breath. He forced himself to smile. “Gimme a minute, okay T?” Taron did as he asked and gave him his space. Sometimes this happened during premieres and he hated to watch it unfold. He knew he couldn’t do anything about it and tried his best to keep himself calm. Whenever it happened, he just wanted to grab his pretty boy and take him home to safety. But it wasn’t always that easy.

The beeping of the cab’s horn interrupted T’s thoughts. Richard came out of the bathroom breathing slowly, closing the door behind him. He smiled weakly at Taron and opened his apartment door. While walking outside, Taron took his boyfriend’s hand and felt him relax a little bit. He gently rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. They entered the cab and sat in silence, their hands still connected. After a few minutes, Richard let out a moan and leaned forward. He buried his face in his hands, yet still kept his hold on Taron’s hand.

“We can still go home you know?” Taron offered while rubbing his back. It was torture to see him suffer. It was a dumb offer and he knew Dickie would deny it. This evening was too important.

“I won’t ruin your evening. It-it will be okay.” He recognized how hard his boyfriend was trying to stay calm and rubbed his back softer. He gave him a gently kiss on his neck which made Rich sit up. He placed his lips on Taron’s and kissed him gently. “We’re going to celebrate your amazing work today and I can’t think of anything better than supporting you.”

Taron smiled and kissed him passionately. “Not only mine. Also the one of my incredibly good looking co-star.” Both let out a chuckle and kissed again. “I swear to you, I will get you out of there as soon as possible.” Richard looked at him and T could see the tears forming in his eyes. He put his arms around him and Rich buried his face in his chest. Richard was the kind of person that needed T close to him whenever he felt the panic rise in his body.

They exited the car and Richard felt the fear coming along. He started breathing deeply, trying to gain control of his heart rate and keep his vision clear. Taron was talking to someone and his demeanor was very serious. Rich’s chest was feeling tight and his breathing was ragged. The screams of the eager fans and the paparazzi made him nervous. Suddenly, Taron stood next to him with a worried look on his face. “Are you sure you want to do this darling?” Richard nodded weakly and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, he felt dizzy and the world was turning. He immediately took Taron’s hand in his. T leaned in to his ear. “I just talked to one of the organizers. We are allowed to go out together, so you won’t be alone. I’m right here.”

“I love you so much T.” He whispered and looked into the blueish green eyes of the amazing man he called his.

Someone approached them. “Taron Egerton and Richard Madden? You’re up next.”

 They walked down the carpet hand-in-hand, posing for pictures and doing a few interviews. Taron tried to comfort Richard with his gentle touches. During the interviews, it was especially hard for Richard to focus and he seemed as though he was hopelessly overstrained.

As soon as they passed through the red carpet, Richard felt a bit better. He pulled Taron into a hug and tried to calm himself down. His hands were shaking and his whole body shivered as though there was a draft. T whispered into his ear. “I’m so proud of you my love. You did so well.”

His hands and neck were covered in tiny beads of sweat. He realized he was about to have a panic attack and asked his lover if they could search for a public bathroom. While they were walking, he felt his chest getting tighter than before and his body still shaking. Taron wrapped an arm around his frame while walking away from everyone. He hurried along, knowing what was about to unfold. Tears began to form and alter Richard’s sight and he held Taron closer.

Finally, T found a bathroom and opened the door, never letting go of his boyfriend. As soon as the door was closed, Richard’s body began to give out as he staggered over to the countertop sinks, sitting on them. Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to wipe them away. Taron stood in front of him and pulled him into a strong hug. Richard slightly relaxed his shaking body against him and buried his face in his chest. Taron gently kissed him on his head and started whispering to him, calming him down and creating a safe space between them. He still had short uneven breaths that seemed to be out of his control. “Shhh, calm down. Everything is okay. You’re safe love.”

The door opened abruptly and Dexter Fletcher walked in. His features dawned a slightly irritated look and he tapped on his watch. “Taron mate! You need to be on stage in a minute. Everyone is looking for ya.” Richard flinched in his arms due to the sudden interruption. He tried to sit up and distance himself from his beloved boyfriend.

“Tell them I’ll be there as soon as possible.” He answered and held Richard tighter. There was nothing that would pry him away from him right now.

“That won’t make them happy.” Dex spoke.

“Unfortunately, they’re gonna have to wait. Give me 5 minutes please Dex.” He said harshly. “I have something more important at the moment.”

Dex noticed Richard in Taron’s arms and raised his eyebrows. “Panic attack?” He mouthed to Taron. He nodded softly and rubbed the back of his still shaking boyfriend. It wasn’t a big secret beyond the cast, that Richard had some struggles from time to time and needed Taron then. Dexter have a sympathetic look, understanding the gravity of the situation. He put up 5 minutes with his hand and exited the room. They were alone again.

Richard sighed and removed his face from Taron’s jacket. His eyes dawned a tint of red and tear stains decorated his cheeks, the look of exhaustion on his face. Taron began to feel his protective side coming on. He felt sorry the fact that his lover was insecure sometimes and he suffered from these attacks. His thumbs rubbed away the remaining tears and he placed kisses over his wet cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Richard spoke quietly and didn’t dare to look up at his boyfriend.

“Don’t you ever apologize for having a panic attack! Your feelings are more important than this premiere to me Richard.” Taron placed his hands on Richard’s face, trying to create eye contact.

The Scott man slowly got down from the sink. “No, you really don’t deserve this, T.” He turned on the faucet and washed his still shaking hands. Why did this have to happen today? Carefully, he washed his face, avoiding getting water on his suit. He looked up and say an annoyance settle in Taron’s face in the mirror. “Are you alright?”

As soon as he turned around, Taron’s lips were on his, his hands bringing him closer than they already were. He stopped and looked into his eyes. “You’re so right. I don’t deserve you, Richard Madden.” Richard frowned slightly, trying to hide the fact that his sentence stung him a bit. Taron bit his lip and played with the hair on the back of his neck. Rich stood there not sure of what was happening. “You’re too perfect to be mine and I just freaking love every beautiful inch of you. So you’re right, I don’t deserve you.”

Richard leaned in for another kiss. His smile was bright. “Shut up, dumbass.”

Richard sat in the audience next to Bryce and Jaime. They were at a beach in front of a stage where Elton would play a song in honor of the first ever screening of Rocketman. During the movie, Taron wouldn’t let go of his hand and they enjoyed watching it. He felt a lot better now that all the public things were done for the day. “Where’s Taron?” Jaime asked as Elton began to play the first notes of “Your Song”.

“To be honest, I don’t know.” Richard sat up straight and looked around searching for the familiar stature of his boyfriend. Jaime nudged him with his elbow and nodded towards the stage. Taron came out singing the first words of “Your Song”. When he locked eyes with his surprised boyfriend, he gave him one of his signature winks.

It soon became clear why they picked “Your Song”. Taron sang his heart out without looking away from Richard, not one time.

“You see I’ve forgotten if they’re green, or they’re blue.

Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean.

Yours are the sweetest eyes, I’ve ever seen.”

A picture of Richard’s blue eyes suddenly appear on the big screen behind Elton and Taron. Richard blushed and tried to hide behind Bryce, who began to laugh warmly. Taron looked shocked as he looked at the screen behind him, continuing the show.

“I hope you don’t mind, I hope you don’t mind

That I put down in words

How wonderful life is

While you’re in the world.”

More pictures of Taron and Richard shuffled on the screen while the performance went on. Richard found it quite amusing to see the expression on his lover’s face. Elton’s mischievous smile indicated to Richard that it was his idea, and Taron knew nothing about it.

When the applause died down, Taron hopped from the stage and took Rich into his arms. “I love you and nothing will ever change that!” He breathed out, still trying to steady his heartbeat after singing. The sunset colored the sky beautiful hues of pink, orange and a gentle violet. It made him look even more lovable and his eyes shined in the remaining sunlight. Richard kisses him softly and the second applause of the evening underlined the moment perfectly. 

@taruhnegerton  @cheshirechan @dreamingwolfthings @mochidoubleb

[taz-writes]

i’m not dead

I am, however, really mad at my creative writing teachers over the last few years, because it seems I’ve completely forgotten how to describe things! It turns out that forcing me into a page limit makes me “adapt” by cutting literally everything that isn’t a line of dialogue, which isn’t actually good for one’s storytelling!

and now that I don’t have that page limit anymore, I can’t seem to remember how to make the descriptions come out right. they feel really hamhanded and forced, the result of me basically sitting down and going “at some point I need to make sure people know what this character looks like,” but working those descriptors into the narrative isn’t effective either because there is no narrative because I’ve developed the shitty habit of having nothing but infinite dialogue interspersed with fight scenes. and the stories are still too long anyway.

it’s demoralizing, and it’s frustrating. I almost wish I hadn’t taken the minor to begin with, but I had no way of knowing what to expect—not every school is like this, and heck, not even every teacher is. what gets me is that there’s no easy solution. I’ve talked before about the impact my writing classes had on my ability to plot, and that’s its own thing, but this “word count adaptation” issue doesn’t have a clear-cut answer. in a workshop-style college course, you can’t just let people submit long stories, because nobody has time to read and respond to that shit. you’ve gotta be realistic. but these page count limits caused an actual base-level detrimental change in my writing style and that’s not okay either.

the moral of this story is that no force of nature can make me stop being an overwriter, and I’ll probably never be able to really enjoy litfic bc of the association with these classes that fucked up my main creative outlet. RIP. :/

In other progress-related news, I’ve “officially” let Feilan go on hiatus again, because I’m just too frustrated with it. I need to let it sit for a while while I do some personal introspection and reorient my place in the world—Feilan’s always been deeply connected with my understanding of myself as a person, which is a main reason why I’m increasingly reluctant to submit it to traditional publishers when it’s done. When I get into weird mental states it drags the story along with me, since it is so self-inserty (this is both a strength and a weakness with this WIP). Lately the characters feel stale and annoying, and I have some kind of mental block getting in the way of progress, and I don’t want to go into a downward spiral by forcing myself to write it anyway. I’ve learned my lesson from trying that in the past. The fairies need a rest whether I like it or not.

BUUUUT, despite not working on Feilan, I’ve put a solid amount of effort towards my Nymia WIP! So I’m doing something! I’ve finally drawn up a more-or-less coherent timeline of events to pull all the little vignettes I’ve written into a chronological order, which is something I’ve been struggling with for, like, actual years. Now that I have an approximate order of events I can start committing to larger more important scenes, and I can start stitching pieces together and maybe turn this into an actual novel instead of a confusing trainwreck?

Nymia’s still complicated, though, is the thing. The nature of the story is somewhat fragmented, with major characters scattered across a continent and major events strewn all along the timeline. I’ve barely started formal planning and I can already tell that arm-wrestling the pacing into place is going to suck—the biggest emotional climax I have planned so far happens only, like, a third of the way in. I’ve never tried to write a longform story that was quite this character-driven before. Technically, Feilan is the only longform story I’ve ever finished a full draft for, and BOY does that statement try to haul me back to that wonky mindset I talked about two paragraphs ago. So I’m having some issues.

But for the time being, I’m gonna try and focus in on writing what I want to write and not trying to cling so closely to an outline. I want to be more spontaneous and my mindset of “everything must Make Sense and be Good” is holding me back. I’ve been editing and rewriting Feilan for so long that I’ve lost touch with how to just sit back and write a rough draft.

Wish me luck!

[bettsfic]

first of all, congrats on all of your successes! I'm as happy for you as an internet stranger can be (which is honestly pretty happy). I have a quick writing question for you, if you're in the mood to answer one. how do you control the length of your stories? I keep coming up with plot ideas that I think are good for short stories but then I get 4k in and am still setting up the premise. is there a trick to cutting down your plot so it can be resolved in ~5k words? or is it trial and error? thx!

this is such a mood. did you know training wheels was supposed to be 10k? it capped out at 125k. 

personally length is something i really struggle with because it’s also a function of interest. if i start writing anything that i know in advance will be over 10k, i get intimidated and set it aside. so, for me, it’s almost a necessity to disillusion myself into believing “it’s almost done!!” because otherwise i’d never write anything at all. 

how to control the length of a story

sometimes you can’t know how long something will be, and if you’re a pantser like me, you have to let stories drag you along until they let you go. it’s part of the joy of writing. but sometimes you’ve got to know how long something will be, or control it to be the length you need it to be, for the sake of your own sanity.

because length is a number, i see it in very mathy terms

length = style x conflict 

style is the way in which a piece is written. if you have thick, textured prose, or you’re in a character’s mind who has elaborate internality, it may take 20k just to take a single sip of coffee. flannery o’connor’s “a stroke of good fortune” is a long short story in which all that happens is a woman climbs a set of stairs. james joyce, virginia woolf, henry james, donna tartt – these authors are all known for slow prose styles. 

conversely, you can have entire kingdoms rise and fall in the span of a handful of words, if you’re concise enough. if you want to practice brevity, write poetry. practice condensing major themes in lines and phrases and images one after another. 

by style i also mean reality. if all of your characters are real, rational people functioning in real, rational worlds, it’s going to take a lot longer to, say, get character A, who is shy and lacks self-confidence, into bed with character B, who has been recently broken-hearted. if your story does not concern itself with reality, then you can speed the process along. maybe B decides A is the love of their life and they live happily ever after. you can do that; it’s your story. 

which brings me to conflict.

if you can decide the

premise,

climax, and

resolution

ahead of time (which, sometimes you can’t and that’s okay), and you know your writing style and your relationship to reality, then you can figure out how long a work will be in advance. i’ll give you an example.

a couple summers ago, i was having this exact problem. i’d dipped into my summer depression, which meant i wanted to write, needed to write, but i lacked the attention and motivation to finish anything i started, which was more frustrating than not writing anything at all. so i did the opposite of what i normally do – instead of coming up with a story idea and writing it out, i decided very firmly i wanted to write a story under 20 pages. i needed a good story under 20 pages to send in as a writing sample to future programs, to get published in a good mag. because i knew i could make it to good magazines, but my stories were all too long and it’s a big risk for lit mags to take on long stories when they can promote 2 new authors with shorter stories instead. 

so i asked myself, “what can i get done in 20 pages?”

and then, naturally, because i’m an asshole, my brain replied, “i can make a woman come.”

SURELY, i thought, surely the goal of a woman in search of an orgasm would not take more than 20 pages. 

i was wrong, at first. the first draft was 22 pages, and subsequent drafts got it down to 16. i started the story in a sex shop because i liked the image of a middle-aged woman buying a dildo for the first time because she’d never had an orgasm. then i slowly started building the world around this woman – she had two sons, she was a comic book collector, her husband was mysteriously missing from the present narrative – and unveiled this greater world. that’s where style comes in. my writing style is minimal in exposition but packed in character details and internal narration. my curiosity always gets the best of me in that regard. i need to know everything about my characters, and i learn it by letting them show their lives to me, which is why my stuff always runs long.

many times, my fatal error is that i only come up with an initial scene to start a story, and with only that in mind, things get away from me. but if i hold off on that initial scene and force myself to consider “what is the culminating moment?” or “what ground do i intend to cover?” then i can keep things reasonably short. 

here are some additional tips/tricks:

scaffolding – sometimes you have to write it all out first to learn the story yourself, and you can go back and gut it. i call this scaffolding because you have to build all this extra stuff to find the information you need, and then you take it down. this happens because, despite popular belief, we write to think, not as the result of thought. so sometimes you’ve got to write things down to see the truth of them, but it’s not integral for your readers to know. maybe, to you, it’s very important that you know that your main character was once in a devastating car accident, but your reader has no need or want to know that fact. every story has some scaffolding in the first draft. skill in writing involves finding the scaffolding and deleting it without feeling bad.

structure – if your story is ambitious in terms of the ground it needs to cover, you can alter the structure to be more conducive to your length goals. consider vignettes, non-chronological timelines, starting the story later in the narrative, ending it earlier, zooming in/out in your narration. sometimes the shortest works travel the farthest because the narrative style sounds like an oral story, something told over a beer, and the longest works are such because they are so deeply embedded in the mind.

think like a poet – one thing i admire about poets is their ability to understand the placement and purpose of every word in a poem. once, someone defined poetry to me as “a piece of writing in which every single element adds to the meaning.” conversely, prose can be in any font with any margins and spacing and it doesn’t usually impact the story. but with poetry, a poet has to go through every word and figure out its purpose, if it should be there, if there’s a better way to say what they’re trying to say, if it belongs somewhere else. the white space around poems add just as much meaning to a poem as the words themselves. that patience is extremely valuable to apply to prose, the constant question of “does this need to be here? is there a better, more concise way i can say this?”

read authors in your opposite length camp – if you write long, read short. if you write short, read long. as a long-form writer, i am always amazed at the distance some extremely short stories can travel. the first things that come to mind for me are my friend kyle’s “the serial shitter” and barthelme’s “some of us had been threatening our friend colby.” tons of lit mags publish flash fiction now (hobart, linked above, is my favorite), so i highly recommend seeking them out. conversely, if you write short, pick up a novel that resembles a brick. in both, consider the style the work is written in, and how much ground the story covers.

tl;dr length is a process of understanding and controlling your narrative style, and knowing the height of your stakes/conflict before you get started. 

thanks for the great question! i hope this helps. 

writing advice tag | ko-fi

[beyondthetemples]

Multimuse RP questions!

{{ I couldn’t figure out which RP blog to stick these on (since I have like. nine), so I figured I’d just skip to the Answering Part over here. =w=

Found here: https://memesfortheroleplayerssoul.tumblr.com/post/163688858676

is there a muse that you wish gets more attention? Honestly? Dove. There are a couple of people who've said they love reading about her, and I'm so absolutely eternally delighted for them, too deeply appreciative for words! A couple friends I met via rping her, and a couple friends I met in Certain discord servers, but that's about it anymore. But she's my baby, you know? I love her, she's amazing, and I wish more people took the time to write stories with her, because she just has so much potential! I mean, yeah, for angst of course, but also for healing and comfort, for action and fantasy, for mystical and mundane plots alike. She's so multi-faceted and fascinating to explore, I just... well, maybe it's more selfish in that I need help exploring some of the more mundane stuff with her. Because if it doesn't really Have Relevance to a Particular Plot, I generally won't wind up writing it, let alone publishing it. :P But this answer's already too long; I could rave about Dove for hours! All I'm trying to say is, I wish more people cared about OCs.

if you HAD to choose, who’s your favorite muse? Favorite to RP with? Far and away, Dove! Favorite for crack RPs, Srentha or Leyla. Favorite canon character is a GIGANTIC toss-up between Raven and Lapis. Favorite characters to explore for personal reasons are Ryou Bakura and Blue Diamond, but I have a hard time bringing myself to actually WRITE about them, for some reason...

is there a muse that not a lot of people roleplay with? (Besides the ones I haven't advertised? ^^';;) Maybe Phobia? She has only ever existed in comic canons-- though she WAS in the Teen Titans Go comics too! (The original series, not the... bastardization). Anyways, she's a much lesser-known muse. And my muse for her is wildly unreliable, she's a volatile and abrasive character, and my inspiration for her has run dry for awhile now...

if you HAD to choose, who’s your least favorite muse? Phobia. o_o See above, actually.

which one of your muses have you been playing the longest? Prooobably Dove? She was the one I started rping with, of course!

which one of your muses has the most ships? Ships in their canon, or ships in my rps? Because you're talking to a demigray here; I don't really do romance? But in my stories, Dove has 3 ships (all at different times in her life). In rps, Dove has been kinda-contemplating-it shipped a couple times, but never got to the point of, you know, kissing... and in fandom, Lapis probably has the most.

what is each of your muses’ otps? notps? ~ Dove and Srentha together~ (Don't have notps for them.) ~ Kary: food? sleep? Her canon boyfriend Eric ~ Leyla has a qpp named Toby in the stories. ~ Raven: I'm demonbirds trash. I don't even know how that happened, honestly. (Notps include B|BRae and, while not as strong of a NO in the jlvtt canon, ter/raven.) ~ Lapis Lazuli: OTP with Peridot! Intensely notp with jasper. ~ Blue Diamond: OTP with Yellow hardcore, no notps to speak of. ~ Phobia: Utterly unexplored??? I think she voluntarily abstains. ~ Ryou: OTP with Joey (thank my girlfriend for that one)! Notp with Yami Bakura, it’s absolutely 100% possibly my most violently-disgusted NOtp yet. Also with Diva because... What The Fuck??? But I won't rant about that just now. ~ Jess: I haven't really done much shipping, though Mistress and Trick are a hella canon, deeply bonded breeding couple. ~ Evangeline? Sorta-OTP with my gf's character Taex, though it's not exactly a ~romantic~ dynamic. Notp with Srentha, probably, considering she'd try to kill him, given the chance, and she’s pissed at Dove for marrying him.

why were you drawn to each one of your characters? Okay, listen, you can't just ask something like this and expect an easy answer! I could write an Actual Legitimate Essay on EACH ONE, because I only write a character when I'm Extremely Highkey Personally Emotionally Inspired by them!

UPDATE: I tried to summarize, I really did! But there's just so MUCH, and it turned into an essay on its own. --> https://beyondthetemples-ooc.tumblr.com/post/189837029682/why-were-you-drawn-to-each-one-of-your-characters

Summaries go like this: Dove is brave, complex enough to delve deeply in and constantly discover new facets of, and inspiring enough to create a positive experience while doing so. Srentha is fun, positive, and passionate, and legitimate ADHD representation. Leyla is a chill miracle child of creativity and quiet passion. Raven is the reason I'm still alive and perfectly reflected me at about age 14, so I have a very deep personal connection to her. Kary is so fun to explore because she's my polar opposite, as a temperamental pyrokinetic who revels in chaos and really just wants to have a good time. Evangeline is everything Dove suppresses, brought to life, so she's fun to explore as an extension of Dove! Lapis has a lot of struggles to explore and has done a lot of healing and growth that I'd like to expand on someday. Blue Diamond and Ryou Bakura were basically literally me, so I can explore the trauma and healing from their perspectives in a safe space. And Phobia? I just wanted to put characters' mettle to the test honestly, and see what would happen.

which muse is the most fun to write for? Oh, Srentha, absolutely hands down! Dove does have the best close-friends casual-fun kind of rp relationships, though. And Mistress the Mismagius has this sardonic teasing sense of humor that always makes me smile, especially with Murky (Murkrow).

is there another muse you’ve been thinking of adding or writing for? who? Oh stars, I don't need another one. =w= I've been... struggling to get my Ryou blog actually up and running for a long while now. Nobody new has inspired me lately, but I'm pretty stuck in my fandom ways.

what is something everyone should know about your muses before interacting? I stick it all in their bios! But, let's see... Dove: Even though she's Raven's half-sister, she keeps it DESPERATELY hidden, and nobody IC is supposed to know about that. Srentha is very deeply rooted in Azarathean pacifism and won't do much in battle besides help people retreat. Leyla has her father's heart condition and can't do anything too active. Kary will rarely use her powers, as conjuring even a simple spark stings her scar badly. Lapis is more than her toxic relationship! Blue Diamond is NOT the dictator she once was! Ryou does NOT want the spirit of the millennium ring in his life anymore! Jess just... sticks mostly to Sinnoh and rarely ever leaves. And Evangeline has a palpable evil aura about her; she makes SURE of it.

what’s a weird headcanon you have for each of your muses? Dove hates pie. Srentha loves colorful things. Leyla will cover everything in glitter if you let her. Kary will do anything for some good food and/or a nap. Ryou's hair is untamable. Lapis doesn't guard her gem as carefully as she should. Blue Diamond may be more emotional, but she won't sing about it as frequently as other Gems. Raven... doesn't wear underwear?

which muse has the most aus or verses? I mean, the Lapis I was writing for was 97% canon divergent. Evangeline only exists as her own person (and not merely a partition of Dove's mind) in a DCUO-compatible timeline. But I don't really do aus or verses otherwise; it's just more stressful for me.

can you sort your muses from youngest to oldest? Sorting based on the ages I'll generally play them: Leyla (8-14), Dove (15-25), Kary (18+), Ryou (19+), Srentha (20+), Jess (22+), Phobia (23+), Lapis (5k+), Blue Diamond (10k+).

which muse is most willing to fight another muse? Oh, definitely Kary. (She won't fight Dove or Leyla, even if there's a really good reason. And Srentha has this weird power of defusing her. But anyone else, she can easily be provoked to fight on a dime.) Or maybe Evangeline, who will fight anyone at any time for any reason whatsoever?

do your muses get along with each other? Evangeline gets along with nobody. Dove/Srentha/Leyla are all a very tight-knit family, and Kary considers herself Dove's sister and Leyla's aunt. I've thought about what might happen if Lapis met Blue Diamond, but I don’t have the faintest idea of how that'd go? I did start an RP once where Lapis met Dove, and I planned to have them bond over homesickness and purpose-seeking, but then I lost the ehd I had that prewritten on, and never had the heart to try rewriting it. Ryou and Jess kinda exist in their own universe's bubble. (Jess has a whole cast of Pokemon creature muses she very much gets along with, though~)

would you ship any of your muses together? who? Dove and Srentha are hella-canon endgame already, that's been decided for like 12 years!

for each muse, is there a character you wish had a blog so you could interact with them? You know, I've never really been one much for wishing like that. I do wish Dove had a stable Raven again, since both of my all-time favorite Raven rpers have left the rp circle... but that's about it, really.

have you ever considered making a multimuse/is it easier having a multimuse? I mean, my Pokemon blog has like 19 muses built into the breeding center... 8F But no, I prefer to keep my drafts, rps, and tag systems for each muse on separate sideblogs. Tumblr's tags break WAY too often to shove them all in one place. (And with a sideblog, I don't have to log in and out every time I want to check for replies!)

which muse is the most problematic towards other muses? Toss-up between Phobia and Evangeline, obviously. Blue Diamond is a reformed Gem, the way I play her. (I don't care what anyone says, THAT'S CANON as HELL too!) But Evangeline actively goes out of her way to hurt and/or sacrifice people to her own ends,

which muse is most likely to make new friends? Probably Leyla, though now that SU has sent out a message across the Gem universe that Gems are welcome on Earth, Lapis could wind up meeting quite a lot of new acquaintances. It's much harder to befriend her, though. Srentha has a lot of charismatic energy too, and he’ll go out and make friends with anyone, given the chance.

which muses’ fandom do you like the best? Ahhh, don't make me CHOOSE like that! ;; Fandom like being a fan of them, or fandom like, liking the other people in the fandom? Because Steven Universe, Teen Titans, and YuGiOh all have incredibly special places in my heart, while having Their Issues amongst the fandom... Pokemon seems to be the best mannered fandom though, especially amidst the RP community.

is there someone playing the same muse/s as you and you really look up to them? Ohgosh, well there's a blog called, I think, melancholeyes?, that plays Blue so well, it's like reading canon scenes. I did see a blog that played a Ryou I respected, but I can't remember their name... and of course Larissa and Pix played great Ravens, but each a different version.

which muse do people send the most asks for? Probably Dove, thanks in large part to Caleb!

which muse is most likely to have kids? Leyla is already Dove's kid, so... 8F

is there a rule that someone keeps breaking for your muses? Not to my knowledge, but my rules aren't strict anyways.

can you sort your muses from weakest to strongest? ...Oh, stars. How am I supposed to sort them? Well, let's try this.

Weakest to strongest in combat (based on their style of choice): Ryou, Leyla, Srentha, Phobia, Evangeline, Jess, Kary, Dove, Lapis, Blue Diamond, Raven. ( * i switched raven and blue diamond around SO many times. both are immensely powerful with god-like abilities, but raven can literally destroy reality itself. so...)

Weakest to strongest by strength of heart and character: Phobia, Evangeline, uh... Kary? Srentha...? Uh... frICK THIS ONE'S HARD. Because they're all so strong in their own ways. Probably Leyla? Next tier is probably Blue, Lapis, and Jess, and Dove, Raven, and Ryou are highest tier.

which muse are you considering deleting? Phobia, and maybe sometimes Blue. (I actually... never got a single RP or follower on Blue. I'm still debating if I really WANT to rp as her, at least on Tumblr, knowing how toxic the fandom can get around the Diamonds...)

most importantly, are you having fun playing each one of your muses? Pretty much! Especially Dove, Srentha, Leyla, and Raven!~ Raven's wit and clipped verbiage can be tricky to for me sometimes, but all it takes is a little tlc on her dialogue, and it doesn't slow down my enjoyment one bit. :} And when I'm in a Pokemon-hyperfocus mood, writing the Pokemon team is ALWAYS a blast! (Especially the Pokemon; their personalities are so dynamic together.) With muses like Lapis and Blue, and even Kary, the mood for their emotionality waxes and wanes, but I don't write for them unless I'm in The Right Frame of Mind to KEEP UP with them, you know? I never push myself in an rp until it's not fun anymore; at least I know where my writing burnout limits are.

Phobia and Evangeline are both sadistic, and when you're a compassionate person, that can be very hard to write out in the painstaking detail of my style. But sometimes my mind just Won't Shut UP about 'Vangie unless I WRITE IT OUT. Which is a good exercise of course, stretching my horizons and all that, and I do love writing the drama and conflict they stir up.

But beyond the momentary discomforts, I'm just so eager to explore their lives and minds and adventures, so yes, I absolutely DO have fun writing for each and every one!

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

Reflections on Writing a Longfic

hey guys! I wanted to make this for a bit, because I thought it would be cathartic. Also I started school again and my teacher is very much into reflections, which I always was an advocate for too, so I thought I would write this! tagging @cathybrokeit and @novamm66 for their interest as well :) Note this really isn’t a “writing advice post,” more so my reflection on how I wrote my fic In Waking Dreams to completion, but if you learn something from it...great! :) 

Anwyay, unto the breach! Also there will be spoilers for IWD, but the story is pretty much Inquisition with my own imaginings in the gaps. But if you want to read IWD spoiler free, I recommend not reading this! 

Background

So I have spoken at length about this before, but I never wrote fanfic until In Waking Dreams. I read it, but never really felt compelled to write it. I wrote original fiction before, even finished a first draft for about three or so different pieces, and the last thing I wrote before IWD (besides a ten minute play) was something I was very, very much in love with, and still am very much in love with.  I finished the first draft of that my freshman year of college, but when I tried to revise it, the words didn’t seem pretty or “perfect enough.” I could not make it the story I wanted to see. It didn’t just frustrate me. It made me deeply depressed. I worried I wouldn’t be able to write again. 

I did a lot of gaming in college because I honestly couldn’t really do anything else (I had trouble connecting with my theatre peers. I was not a partier and my department liked to party.) I lived alone, so I played a lot of games. In 2014 Inquisition came out and I played it because DA had always been one of my favorites. I romanced Cullen, and the romance really resonated with me. It’s why I played it a lot. 

Then my last semester of college, I realized I was really (forgive my crassness,) turned on by the idea of writing a fic with Cullen and my Inquisitor. 

I’ll be honest: at first I thought it was ludicrous. I was twenty two at the time. I never wrote fic. I told my friend once that while i respected it and enjoyed a lot of it, it wasn’t for me. I couldn’t imagine writing a character that wasn’t mine. But I loved Cullen because he and his romance were a comfort to me. I loved his arc and I wanted to fill in the gaps. My directing teacher always told us to direct what turns us on...not what what leaves us with blue balls. I suspect writing is the same way. Hell, I know it is the same way. I couldn’t escape the fact I was turned on. 

So I began. It felt so strange to write the first chapter, but it wasn’t strange anymore, after a while. the words, they flowed from the page. I was upset when I wasn’t writing. I felt like myself again when I was. I was so happy to write this story. It was so bittersweet to finish. 

I don’t know how I did it, in all honesty. but I am going to attempt to tell you how, and analyze it. 

Getting started

I had a grand idea before I began: I would write the whole story, edit it, then publish. I started November 2016 before I graduated college in December. Graduating was so great because it gave me more writing time. (lol.) Made the A03 and officially joined by late December, because I heard it may take a while to get an invite. By May 2017 I was sort of almost done with the first draft, (I got to after the Winter Palace and Perseverance, and I believe Cullen and Lydia had just consummated their relationship.) So I began going back to the beginning and editing, and I decided i was going to start publishing. for exposure, I renamed my tumblr to my a03 name, but I decided eventually to start from scratch. Here we are now. 

I am not going to lie, I got to the destruction of Haven part, uploaded it, and got no response. I was really, really disappointed. I thought: did I do this for nothing? My mom noticed I was upset, and in a moment of weakness I told her everything. Let me tell you, IRL me is very, very secretive of my writing. No one knows about my original work except for one other person. But I told my mom, and she asked me: 

“Are you having fun?” 

I told her yes. She asked me if I believed in my story. I told her yes. She told me to remember that. So for the entire journey I remembered that I believed. I believed and I loved, and that was part of the reason why I finished. People began reading and commenting. One comment made me so, so happy. they always do, to this day. they truly do help.

I knew it before, but I fully learned it then: write what turns you on. write what you want to see. You’ll love, and that love can help you continue 

From the Draft to A03

So here’s a few fun facts about IWD

Stroud was the original Warden, not Miranda 

Originally there was passages in Cassandra’s POV, as well as Solas. did away with this because I can not write Solas and i didn’t think the cassandra parts added anything.

there was going to be a lot of leliana/ Cullen tension I cut back on. there was also a lot of leli/ Lydia tension. 

I wanted to focus on Inqusition as a whole, rather than the romance of cullen and Lydia. (HA) 

Cullen’s ex girlfriend Elaine wasn’t going to make an appearance, but Asher always was.

The timeline as it currently is is way different from my original intention. to Adamant everything would be normal, then there would be the ball that happens at Skyhold, then perseverance and Lydia and Cullen getting together, then the Winter Palace and Cullen and Lydia’s first intimate moment by Honnleath, and then Daddy Trevelyan arrives. (remembering now, the only thing I hadn’t written was the return of Asher.)

 I reassembled a lot of stuff as I wrote. Daddy trev arrived earlier because I wanted him at the ball at Skyhold, the ball happened a lot later, and as I wrote I inserted the Elaine subplot. 

No beta readers, but I would consider one in the future. 

There’s a lot of other stuff I added in and expanded as I started uploading. The original Lydia and Cullen blow up over his past wasn’t nearly as dramatic. Miranda was added and fleshed out, as was Hawke. Eventually I realized i would have to scrape what I had previously written (for an example the first kiss is radically different.) and start from scratch. Was I frustrated? Kinda sorta. See, I truly believe had I not written that incomplete first draft, I would not have been as happy with IWD as it currently stands. Trust me, I understand wanting to upload chapters after you write them and after a cursory read through and edit. I have done this. I will still do this, ha. But I truly think without that base of IWD, I wouldn’t have been nearly as happy with my story. especiallly since it is very very complicated.

Another note: I tended to think of novels like movies, but one thing that really , really helped me was thinking of the story more like a TV show. Episodes or chapters should compliment the whole, but if you want a whole chapter of your OTP laying in bed...you can do that. In fact, I encourage it in fanfic if you want it. that’s the beauty of it. We can write entire scenes of our favorite characters eating ice cream, a scene that would probably be cut out in a major motion picture or even published book for “slowing the pace.” No need in fic. Sure maybe some things can be trimmed, ( I really wish I would have cut the Elaine subplot at least a smidge) but I learned that the true beauty in my story, and what I was really passionate about, was the moments between Cullen and Lydia. 

So eventually I gave up thinking this was an epic novelization of DAI, and embraced it for the romance. I added more little moments.

Long story short: original intentions may change. threads may go elsewhere than the original intent. that’s okay. Characters may surprise you. that is wonderful, because don’t people in real life surprise you? Lydia surprised me. A lot. I knew this before I think, but I know it for sure now: let your characters surprise you. I didn’t truly know Lydia till I continued to write her.I didn’t think she would “want to hurt Cullen” as she says, but as soon as I wrote it: I knew. She would be so hurt she would want to hurt him back. 

Support 

I finished this with a lot of my fire, but I did have support, which helped a lot as well. I was fortunate to get a few frequent commentors as I wrote.  Bless you, every one. @lyriumyue was one such reader. She made comments and observations that I didn’t know about as I was writing, but when she pointed them out, I could totally see it. So I came to her when I was stuck, and she helped me figure stuff out. 

My mom also supported me. I didn’t tell her everything, but when I wasn’t sure if I wanted Cullen and Lydia to kiss, we talked through it, and she said, “let them kiss.” being stuck is normal, but talking it out helps. Heck even writing it down may help. I did that too. When I doubt, I talked it out. 

Final thoughts 

So...here’s the truth about writing, as far as I’m concerned: it’s like falling in love. Something captures you, and you want, need to write it. then there’s the honeymoon phase. After a while, it becomes work and you have to put in effort when you didn’t have to before. but remembering what caught you can reignite that passion. It did for me, when I was bummed out about no comments. Sometimes though, it didn’t. it took a while for a new fire. It came back when someone commented. sometimes it came back because I really, really missed cullen and lydia.

I can’t tell you how I finished. I just know that writing gave me immense happiness. Perhaps you should not fall in love with your characters, but fall I did. I wanted to see them happy in the end, watching the dawn. that made me continue. It made me finish. I don’t know what to say, other than I wanted to see this through so, so much. So I did. And i think remembering why I began....helped a lot. So did support. 

Like I said, this is my reflection. I wish I had more advice, but truthfully the only thing I can say is write with passion and believe. Love what you’re doing. I didn’t always love my words. in fact I learned sometimes you just gotta convey information, but sometimes i would write one line, that just really...it was like soaring. other times, no lie I fucking hated it. I still hate that winter palace chapter, TBH. 

but I believed and I wanted, in the end. I fell in love. So I did. Above all, I implore everyone to believe. Trust me guys, to anyone who wants to write anything: I believe. You can do it. I wish I had something more profound to say, but that’s what I got. And I truly do believe. 

Thank you for reading, thank you for supporting. I’ll still be here. Writing Cullen, and falling in love. 

-Cheyenne (Shakes)

[godstoryforme]

What’s really going on?

Ah...I didn't want to share this. I didn't think there was a need. But if I truly desire this space to be one that is real and authentic, I've got to share what's going on in my head.

I don't know where this post (or heck, this blog) is going yet, but it has been a week or so and I feel like I need to share some of my raw and (minimally) edited thoughts behind the scenes of these well thought out, and heavily edited blog posts.

Here goes.

When I started this blog, I had so many ideas and so many drafted posts. Every time I sensed God put a strong desire in my heart to share something, I would immediately ditch all the studying I was doing. Sit down. Let my thoughts flow as my fingers did the work. Done. Post after post (some are not yet published). It was so effortless.

It was almost like I already knew every single detail I wanted to write down. I truly believe it's because they were such impactful experiences that God had guided me through. Which made it so easy to share because I have personally felt the full force of conviction through these stories.

But as I shared this link to more people, I started to question my intentions. I started to second guess the purpose of this blog. I started to doubt the usefulness of my sharing.

What do I really want from this? Where is this going?!

I'm afraid.

What if underlying all my desire to glorify and point others towards Jesus Christ, I ended up pointing it to myself and my own desires?

The point of this was always to share my personal perspective of how God had changed my life, and how He continues to reveal Truth to me though my life (i.e. His story for me). However, the danger in this is that although it's God's story, it's also His particular story for me. Which means that a significant part of it is going to somehow detail me and my life😰.

Until the most recent 2-3 years of my life I have never been able to be open with my flaws or even think about embracing them. For a person who is still new-ish to this journey of opening up. I am honestly horrified.

Don't get me wrong, I love talking about my life and how God's working in, through and for me. (Maybe a little too much😣). But it's different when these words are put in a public space where anyone can potentially evaluate, criticise, disagree/agree and judge. So maybe part of the problem is I just care too much about what other people think.

There are definitely many mornings I wake up excited and jittery to continue to work on the posts for this blog. I get so excited to share the stories of how God has impacted me so deeply.

But.

Recently as I created an instagram and facebook page, I started to get scared. I started to become really negative. I even have moments where I don't want to share anymore. I want to delete everything. I keep thinking oh no, too many people know. Too many people could potentially know. Too many people are reading me for who I really am. Too many people I need to please.

I got so scared that for a few days I unpublished my facebook page and archived all my instagram posts.

It's strange because I know that all of you who are reading this blog (so far) are my close, good friends or people whom I sense God wanting me to share with. I trust you will not change your view of me simply because I shared some of my brokenness.

So where is this fear stemming from?

Sure, some of it is definitely the fleshly part of me that is unwilling to admit I am not completely who I portray to be. It's one thing saying and admitting to people I am messed up because they may not remember in full detail anyways. Also, they have no real evidence to prove my mess😬.

But, sharing this online and proclaiming my brokenness with evidence...I think this is another level of being exposed. This is definitely part of my reluctance to continue this blog.

But digging deeper. Like really, what am I fearful of especially if this is what I sense God convicting me to share (2 Timothy 1:7)?

I guess a part of me is fearful that people will think I am doing this because I think I'm more special than everyone else. I'm afraid that people will think I'm sharing such personal parts of my life because I want attention. I'm afraid that people will start to expect certain things of me. I'm afraid I will not be able to meet every reader's expectations.

I'm afraid I'll run out of stories to share.I'm afraid I'll lose the effortlessness that comes in writing these posts.I'm afraid I'll portray God in a manner that is not glorifying at all.I'm afraid I'll post about something theologically wrong.I'm afraid I'll prioritise this blog over my personal walk with Jesus.

Hang on...maybe my fear has actually got nothing to do with other people, but I'm really just afraid of the expectations I am placing on myself.

😫

Who ever said I have to be able to consistently do these things? Who ever said I had to post at least once a week? Who ever said that every post had to be without typos and perfectly written?Who ever said that I am only allowed to write about God when I have powerful encounters?

More importantly, did God ever place any of this expectation on me?

God has given me this space to share. Yet I have automatically assumed there are certain expectations and standards I need to meet. Expectations I have subconsciously allowed to control my attitude towards this blog. Expectations that are focused on pleasing man, but not pleasing God.

(I'm realising this so deeply now and praise God for helping me see the problem😭.)

I want to be so careful with what I put out here because I don't want to start thinking that I have to be more special, that I have to

meet another beggar

🙄, that I have to continue to be inspired by God on a regular basis so I can post at least weekly.

The truth is I don't have to blog anymore. But I choose to. I want to. I love to!

I pray I'll never lose focus of this.

I don't want this to be another item on my to do list.

I want this to be real, I want to find joy in sharing God's story for me. I want quality over quantity for this blog!

Quality of my heart for Jesus over the accuracy of my grammar.Quality of the reader's faith over the number of subscribers.Quality of my conviction over the number of posts.

Such a simple concept. Yet I could've missed it.

Praise God for showing me this.

Maybe the next time I won't post until January, or even 2030, or maybe never again. But why should that matter? I choose to be okay with that. It was never about the number of posts I could post in a month. It was always about sharing the precious moments God had gifted me 😊.

It was never about being able to convict the hearts of every reader. It was always about sharing my personal revelations of how God convicted my heart.

I pray this will never be about quantity but it will always be about something that God has burdened me to share.I pray the posts you read will not be posted for the sake of posting. I pray that every post will be rooted in my love for God and written with genuine conviction from God.I pray against my desires to please man, but I pray and dedicate everything to God.

Even if it's just one person God uses this blog to speak to. Even if that one person is me. It doesn't matter.

I'm so grateful for this space where I can share personal revelations about my heavenly Father. I'm so grateful for friends who would even care to read about my life and encourage me to continue. But more than anything in this world, I'm so grateful for a God who has fulfilled all the expectations that are needed for me to have a personal relationship with Him 😊

[dorothydelgadillo]

"My Content Obsessions for 2019" (Content Lab, Ep. 19)

Before we get started, I have an important piece of housekeeping to address -- Content Lab will now be coming to you on Fridays, instead of Wednesdays, at 11:30 a.m., Eastern. 

Ladies, gentlemen, cats, dogs, otters, and squirrels -- it is 2019, and I am back, as is the Content Lab podcast! And man, I am excited.

For the vast majority of the past month, I've lived in a holiday-induced haze of drifting between eating pie and feeling shame about eating said pie while lifting at the gym. So, I am ready to shake off the cobwebs. 

The best part about a new year is that it's a new beginning, clichéd as that may sound. I'm a big fan of fresh starts, so I want to spend this episode sharing with you what's on my mind for the coming year. 

Both with content creation, and for the Content Lab. 

Enjoy! 

Listen to the Episode

What Will Be My Content Obsessions in 2019?

First, I want to think with a more video-first mindset. Or at least with a mindset that embraces video as equally as I do writing.

The obvious reason being that, while there will always be space for the written word, video is one of the most effective (and quickest) ways to establish trust with an audience or an individual, and foster a more human-to-human connection. 

(Also, I after spending more than a week editing Myriah Anderson's utterly inspiring Video for Sales getting started guide -- which just launched this week at impactbnd.com/video-for-sales -- I kind of have video on the brain.)

So, one of my objectives for this year that I'm that I'm particularly excited about is ensuring IMPACT is a best-in-class example of how to use video in your content and marketing. 

As part of that goal -- I'm pushing myself to create more video personally, even though I'm not terribly comfortable in front of a camera -- for email messages, articles for IMPACT, and more. Thankfully, I've got Vidyard GoVideo to help me out with that, which I'm more than a little obsessed with. 

(Learn why I love Vidyard GoVideo.)

Next, I want to be more... open-minded about robots, and how AI will shape the future of what I do as a content creator.

I've always feared the moment when they would design an AI that could flawlessly mimic my writing style and endless devotion to the original Law & Order series. But after learning about what Forbes is doing with AI to empower their writers with a more bionic approach to robots, I'm intrigued. 

For those who haven't heard about what Forbes is doing:

Forbes now uses a CMS called Bertie. Bertie uses artificial intelligence to suggest headlines and propose topics for contributors based on their publication history. 

"That's nice."

OK, here's the "big deal" news.  The team at Forbes is currently testing an AI-driven tool within Bertie that gives Forbes writers a very rough draft to build upon, instead of having them start a new article from scratch. 

In addition to starting copy, this "rough draft" might include links to other resources -- both internally from Forbes, as well as other sites -- and images. 

This is a big, big deal.

I mean, just imagine never having to be bossed around or mocked by a blank screen again. Never having to create something from nothing, because your new best robot friend had already curated some raw materials for the express purpose of empowering you to write something powerful and valuable. 

It's this idea of content creation bionics -- of leveraging AI with a "How can we help humans?" approach, rather than a "How can replace humans?" one -- that I had never considered. 

My only gripe when I first initially learned of this innovation, however, is that it seemed pretty much a luxury of those publishers and media giants with big budgets. 

But yesterday, I was introduced to nDash.co's Content Brief, which is based off a similar model of providing an AI-researched brief on a search term input by a human, that they wish to write about:

I took it for a test drive with the term, "why website accessibility is important for businesses," and within minutes, I received an extensive set of resources in this content brief:

Unlike Bertie, which creates a rough draft, nDash's Content Brief is clearly a robot-aggregated set of statistics, summaries, and links. 

That said, there's enough here for me to keep using it, because it brought together so many resources that I would have had to go out and independently mine for myself. Although, I'll still probably do a bit more research on my own, as well. 

We're living in exciting times, content friends. 

Third, I want to bring more order and focus to the idea of pillar content and topic cluster strategies. 

I don't want to dive too deeply into what I mean by this at the moment, but for now, here is the problem I've identified. Search engines -- particularly Google -- favor websites with a limited number of focus areas. Preferably one. 

While the topic cluster model brings some semblance of order to content strategies that were once completely arbitrary, we're still not too far away from organizations having... well, tons of random topic clusters floating around in cyberspace, disconnected from each other. 

My goal this year is to solve for that in a way that brings even more order to the way we develop content strategies and helps us better network our content for search engine visibility. 

So, stay tuned on that front. 

Additionally, a goal I'm carrying over from last year is to continue to push the boundaries of what it means to create content that's as absurdly helpful as possible.

Our mission here at IMPACT is to be obsessed with leading those within our community -- readers, clients, whomever -- to success. To make your jobs easier every single day.

So, if I'm not pushing myself to give more, and do more, and show more, then I'm not doing my job. 

That may sound overly simplistic, but we believe that is the core of what it means to be inbound. An innate sense of altruism, where you don't stress about hiding your secret sauce. Instead, you give it away for free. 

I did that with my pillar on how to create a content style guide, and I was nervous. I literally gave away my whole process -- workshop guidelines, worksheets, templates, and all. 

Then, I saw this message in IMPACT Elite, and I was blown away:

My goal is to create more moments like this for myself, and empower others inside and outside of IMPACT to do the same. That's what it's all about, folks. 

Finally, I want to continue to innovate with Content Lab, so it is the most valuable podcast it can possibly be. 

I've already spoken with a few of you and gotten invaluable feedback on what you love about the podcast already, and what is on your wishlist for Content Lab in the future. 

Don't worry, you'll continue to hear interviews with some of the best content brains in the industry, and I'll still be sharing some of my favorite tips, tools, and tricks for being a rockstar content creator. My goal is to make sure I'm doing it in the most helpful way possible. 

With that, happy 2019, everyone! I'm so excited to embark on this new year of content creation together.

Subscribe to the Content Lab Monthly Newsletter

Once a month, I'm going to send you an absurdly useful newsletter will tons of insights, tips, and tools for you to make your content amazing. It's that simple.

Here's what it looks like, so you know what shenanigans you're getting into with me:

So, what are you waiting for? Go to this page and sign-up.

Connect with Content Lab 

Okay, first, you've gotta subscribe to Content Lab on Apple Podcasts. That way you'll never miss an episode! 

Content Lab: Twitter, Instagram

Liz: Twitter, Instagram 

Or you can comment on this episode below! I'd love to hear from you.

from Web Developers World https://www.impactbnd.com/blog/content-lab-goals-for-2019

[shareeanne-deactivated]

This Weekend I Fell Apart, and That’s Okay

“Look for something positive each day, even if some days you have to look a little harder.” ~Unknown

This weekend I hurt more than I have in a very long time.

It all started on Friday, when my boyfriend and I headed out to spend the weekend with friends—two couples, both with babies in tow.

I’ve been trying, unsuccessfully, to get pregnant since the start of the year, yet I didn’t anticipate that it would be emotionally taxing for me to be around two little families. I was just excited to see our friends, who live in the Bay Area, hours away from our home near LA.

A little backstory: I’m less than three weeks away from my thirty-ninth birthday, which means I’m now in the category of “high risk pregnancy,” if I’m even able to get pregnant at all.

My boyfriend and I first discussed having a baby five years ago, but we kept pushing it off because our families live on opposite coasts, and neither of us was able to agree to live on the other’s coast full-time for the long-term.

We finally decided, at the beginning of this year, that I would be the one to visit my family—as often as I feel I need to, with our kid(s), for the foreseeable future—and we’d commit to staying in LA, which makes sense, since we’re working toward a career in film.

But biology doesn’t just fall in line because you finally get over your fears and decide to make a compromise. We’re both open to the idea of adoption, but there are other personal issues—that my fiercely private boyfriend would not want disclosed—that have complicated matters.

So there I was, on Friday, with our friends and their adorable babies—one actually a toddler, since he recently turned two.

We toasted our get-together around 5:00 with our first glass of wine, and the wine continued flowing throughout dinner. After, we all moved to the deck to partake in an at-home wine tasting.

The ladies and I discussed my road to pregnancy, and though I was discouraged, for the most part I was fine—until I wasn’t.

Having lost track of the amount of wine I was drinking, I eventually hit that emotional place I remember from my twenties—when alcohol eventually led to histrionics and tears. It is literally a depressant, after all, and generally not great to imbibe when you’re already feeling fragile.

I don’t remember all the details of that night, but I know I cried about my fears about not being able to have a family (which, as I mentioned, is an issue complicated by many factors).

I woke up at 4:00 in the morning and picked a fight with my boyfriend about our relationship. Then I woke at 8:00 with two things: a hangover and a shame-over. I was absolutely mortified.

I’d gotten drunk, turned a fun night with friends into something heavy and emotional, and had caused my boyfriend a lot of pain and embarrassment. It gave me a little comfort to realize everyone had drunk too much. But I still felt deeply ashamed of having lost control.

Ironically, I received an email that morning that I’d been waiting on for almost a month. My film mentor had just read the second draft of my first feature screenplay, and she said she was blown away by the massive improvement from the first draft.

I had never in my life simultaneously felt immense pride and deep shame, but I did right then.

Fortunately, the friend I cried to was extremely kind and empathetic. And no one judged me or put me down, as good friends never do.

But that day was pretty rough for me, physically and emotionally. And the next day, it got worse.

That night I noticed that a few people had commented on a meme I’d shared on Friday, using clipart with a hyper-sexualized female silhouette. They mentioned that it was demeaning to women to use what essentially appeared to be Barbie to represent the female form. One person called it “offensive.”

Though there were only a few critical comments, juxtaposed against 12,000 shares, I immediately realized I agreed with them. As someone who once struggled with an eating disorder, I’d like to represent women as more than a busty, high-pony-tailed caricature.

This didn’t fully or accurately represent my values or the message I’d like to convey. And I didn’t like the idea of young girls seeing it and concluding, as I may have as an adolescent, that this was what a woman is supposed to look like, even if some women actually look like this. So I decided to take it down.

With a mind still foggy I decided to write something on Facebook, as I wanted the community to know I felt I’d made an error in judgment. I didn’t want to just delete it. I want to make it clear I don’t agree with a society that puts pressure on women to be femme bots and suggests that our sexuality is our most valuable contribution.

I mentioned in my post that some people had pointed out that the image was offensive, and I agreed that it was triggering—and the backlash was swift and harsh.

In retrospect, I don’t think I accurately communicated why I decided to remove this image, since I didn’t address the cultural issue of how women are portrayed in the media, and the fact that I’d like to be part of the solution, not the problem. But I’m not sure if would have mattered if I did, since I’d used the word “offensive.”

I forgot that people often get offended by other people getting offended.

Over the next day, hundreds of comments came in, many attacking me on a personal level.

People called me spineless for catering to “snowflakes.” People said they lost respect for me and questioned my aptitude for even doing the work I do, since I clearly have no sense of conviction or belief in my own decisions. Even more alarming, many people mocked the idea of being “triggered,” and essentially belittled anyone with emotional or mental health issues.

I felt misunderstood, judged, and condescended.

I hid or deleted many of the worst comments, and resisted the urge to defend myself, deciding instead to leave one clarifying comment a couple hours in. But I’m not going to lie; this affected me deeply.

While on the one hand, I reminded myself that my power was in my response, and publicly, I only responded in one calm, clear comment, I also obsessively monitored the feed.

By this time my boyfriend and I were at his parents’ house in Nevada, where we planned to stay for a few days, and I wasn’t even close to present. I didn’t want to delete this new post, since I believed I’d done the right thing, but it pained me to see so much vitriol in a space that I hold sacred.

Then came another blow: I’d noticed a while back that since the start of the year, someone had been sharing every single challenge from my book Tiny Buddha’s 365 Tiny Love Challenges, on Facebook. Though this person tagged my page, none of the posts included the book’s title or a link—and some people actually assumed she was writing these posts, or getting them from my Facebook page.

I’d emailed my publisher a few weeks back to ask their thoughts on this, and they told me they could send an email asking her to stop. At the time, this seemed warranted.

Her Facebook friends didn’t see it that way. After she posted the letter from my publisher’s legal department, tagging my page, once again, the comments turned nasty.

F— you, Tiny Buddha.

You suck, Tiny Buddha.

 More like “Greedy Buddha.”

Unbelievable! She should thank you for the free marketing!

For a while, I felt completely numb. And I knew I was doing the “wrong” things by obsessively monitoring my phone and letting these comments get to me.

I knew it wasn’t serving me to dwell in my self-righteousness and how wrong I believed it was for this woman, who enjoyed my work enough to share it, to like comments that attacked me on a personal level. But I did it anyways.

I was angry with the people who were angry. I was triggered by the people who were triggered.

And then something occurred to me: This whole weekend was an opportunity. It was a chance to practice some of the lessons that are much easier to practice when everything is going well.

This weekend was a chance to remember that:

I need compassion most when I think I deserve it the least.

Initially, I beat myself up over several things this weekend: drinking to excess, exploding emotionally, hurting my boyfriend, choosing clipart that I wished I hadn’t chosen, asking my publisher to speak for me instead of reaching out to the woman personally, and obsessing over the various challenges I was facing instead of being present.

I told myself I shouldn’t have made any of those mistakes. I should have been beyond this. I was a fraud.

Then I realized something: I was being as mean to myself as the people online. And not a single blow of self-flagellation was helping me move on. In fact, each self-judgmental thought cemented me further into the hole. Because telling myself I was sucking at life made it awfully hard to find the strength to do better.

Every time I criticized myself, I weakened myself, and a weakened person is far less equipped to reframe difficult circumstances and respond with equanimity.

The only way out was to cut myself from slack. I need to stop fighting with myself and let go, as if melting into a hug from someone who finally forgave me. I needed my own love and compassion.

So I drank too much and cried. I was hurting. It’s been a long journey toward starting a family, and it’s been hard. It’s okay to hurt.

So I made mistakes in my work—who doesn’t? I owned them and publically admitted them. What matters isn’t the fact that I messed up but that I acknowledged it and committed to doing better.

I don’t have to be perfect. Sometimes I will make mistakes, some public, and sometimes I’ll make many that compound. The only way to stop the cycle is to stop obsessing about having done things wrong. The only way to move into the future is to fully accept the past. Once I did this, I felt freer, and better able to be present.

The approval that matters most is my own.

It bothered me that people believed I removed the image because I needed approval from the “complainers,” as opposed to having made a decision based on my own beliefs and values.

But ironically, once the flood of negative comments came in, I did start feeling a need for approval. I wanted people to understand and honor my positive intentions.

It took me a day, but I was finally able to accept that some people were simply committed to judging me, and this wasn’t something to change; it was something to accept.

It didn’t matter if someone people derided me or questioned me if I felt in my heart I’d done the right thing.

I eventually deleted the second post because I wanted to put an end to the negativity. There’s far too much of that on Facebook already. But I’m proud I waited and resisted the urge to remove all criticism immediately. For a recovering people-pleaser, allowing a public character assassination requires immense strength. And I give myself a lot of credit for that.

It’s rarely personal.

Intellectually, I knew this when people were insulting me in both places on Facebook.

I knew that the people who were angry with me for catering to “snowflakes” were really projecting their feelings about what they perceive to be an oversensitive culture. It wasn’t just about this one image. It was about every time someone’s ever said they were offended, and their complex feelings about what that means to them.

I also knew that the people defending the woman who’d been sharing my book online were acting from a place of allegiance to their friend. They were more pro-her than anti-me. Many didn’t even have all the information—they didn’t realize she’d been sharing from a book. So really, I couldn’t take that personally either.

This wasn’t immediately comforting to me because the attacks were so public, but when I was able to fully absorb this, it did give me some peace.

Not everyone will see my side, and that’s okay.

I believe one of our deepest desires is to feel understood—to know that other people get where we’re coming from and that they may even have done the same thing if they were in our shoes.

I didn’t feel that way when people judged me personally based on the letter from my publisher’s legal department.

I left a few comments on that post, trying my best to respond from a place of calm, but I know there are some people who will forever think I am greedy and soulless because I didn't want my book’s content republished online.

I’ve decided that this is okay. Not everyone has to get me, understand me, support me, be considerate of me, or treat me kindly—so long as I do those things for myself.

Pain can be useful if you share it to help someone else.

I decided to share this post for two reasons:

First, I thought it would be cathartic for me. I felt ashamed for a lot of this weekend, and I wanted to be able to reframe this experience in a way that felt empowering. As I said when I first launched this site, when we recycle our pain into something useful for others, we’re able to turn shame into pride.

And that brings me to the second reason: I thought it might be helpful for someone else to realize that even someone who runs a site like Tiny Buddha can fall into so many self-destructive traps.

If you’ve ever drunk too much and fell apart emotionally, know that you’re not alone.

If you’ve ever obsessed over comments online and allowed something as trivial as a Facebook feud to get the better of you, know that you’re not alone.

If you’ve ever failed to apply what you know and regressed to the least evolved version of yourself, know that you’re not alone.

And know that all of these things are okay. They don’t mean anything about you as a person. They don’t define you. And they don’t have to dictate the future.

This is what I needed to hear this weekend when I was despondent and numb, so today it’s my gift to you. I hope someone benefits from something in my experience. But I suppose no matter what, someone has—me.

About Lori Deschene

Lori Deschene is the founder of Tiny Buddha and Recreate Your Life Story, an online course that helps you let go of the past and live a life you love. Her latest book, Tiny Buddha's Worry Journal, which includes 15 coloring pages, is now available. For daily wisdom, follow Tiny Buddha on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram.

Web | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | More Posts

Get in the conversation! Click here to leave a comment on the site.

The post This Weekend I Fell Apart, and That’s Okay appeared first on Tiny Buddha.